


The Ambitions of Albus Potter

by LaFeteMagique



Series: Loving Like a Potter [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Scorbus, Drama, Gryffindor Albus Severus Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Hufflepuff Scorpius Malfoy, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29031246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFeteMagique/pseuds/LaFeteMagique
Summary: Albus Severus Potter is handsome and intelligent with a bright future ahead of him. While his family doesn't seem to understand his political ambitions, he has a plan for his future. That plan certainly does not include a major scandal or falling in love, and to be honest he’s not quite sure which is worse.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Series: Loving Like a Potter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803367
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took a long break on my last version of this story and when I revisited, I just wasn’t happy with some of the writing. But that’s the lovely thing about fan fiction is that it can always be a work in progress. This is a companion piece to my other James Sirius Potter story The Quidditch Chronicles and follows the original ending of that story. But, it’s not a sequel so you don’t need to read that story for this one to make sense. Lastly, I just have to say that JK Rowling continues to be a disappointment and overall trash human, but one thing I’ve loved in the stories I’ve read on AO3 is how much fans have improved her stories and characters through rich world-building and representation of all races and lifestyles. Thanks for reading.

* * *

“Unidentifiable male, age thirties or forties, no personal items. Clothes and jewelry intact, including what looks to be several rings on both hands. No obvious signs of trauma. Autopsy will be required to identify cause of death. Markings on hands and wrists may indicate some defensive wounds,” lead auror Artermis Randall dictates into the enchanted quill and notepad floating near her shoulder while she examines the body of a well-dressed man. Late summer weather not withstanding, the body is cold as ice after spending a spiteful night in the Thames.

She walks around the body slowly, examining the scene, assessing the details once again.

“No wand present. We’ll have to get him back to the autopsy chambers to take biological samples. Pearlsteen, send a message to the trainees to start pulling missing persons reports from the last forty-eight hours.”

Jonah Pearlsteen had been accepted to the auror program directly out of Hogwarts. In the past nine years he had seen his fair share of dead bodies, many more gruesome than the last. However, aforementioned crime scenes had never included someone he knew.

“Don’t bother, it’s Riordan Vaughn,” he says, sighing heavily.

“How do you know that?” Asks a trainee auror, a wide-eyed twenty-year old named Nora Cosgrove.

“Pearlsteen knows everyone, especially the ones with money. Don’t you know he’s a high society type just slumming it with the aurors? But even I recognize him from the papers,” says the other trainee Lawrence Proudfoot.

“That gazillionaire real-estate developer? Holy hippogriffs, the press is going to have a field day. Let’s get him out of hear before Romilda Vane shows up and starts sniffing around,” Randall commands.

The auror team uses their wands to carefully wrap the corpse in a protective shroud and levitate it into an enchanted trunk to be sent via portkey back to the ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

* * *

**3 Months Earlier**

Albus Potter is usually a mild-mannered young man. In fact, of all the Weasley and Potter children, he is the least temperamental and least likely to fall into dramatic antics. His mother Ginny had always said he was the easiest baby, calm and well-behaved, never fussy. Someone had to be even-keeled in his household of James ‘always the center of attention’ Potter and Lily ‘drama queen in waiting’ Potter and so as the middle child,Albus was a natural mediator.

It was hardly a surprise when he pursued magical law as a career. People always imagined law as full of high-stakes courtroom drama and pompous speeches, but in reality it required a logical mind and even-temper. Good lawyers could understand both sides of an argument. They could anticipate their opponent’s arguments and be ready to counter strike, like a chess match, a game at which Albus rather excelled. In fact, he was the only one in his expansive family that stood a chance against his Uncle Ron.

His innately diplomatic tendencies made him a natural fit when he apprenticed at the International Confederation of the Wizengamot in Tokyo after finishing his magical law course. He had thrived in the high-stakes political environment. Everyone angling for their own interests and no one interested in compromising. Who will get the more favorable end of raw materials trade negotiations between magical Amazonian tribes, the Brazilian ministry and the joint European magical ministries? Which ministry governs conflicts between centaur colonies that live in the Pyrenees along the French-Spanish border?

The conversations rather reminded Albus of childhood negotiations at the Potter’s family home Iolanthe House or at his grandparents’ home the Burrow. Who gets to be captain for quidditch in the garden? Who has to de-gnome the vegetable patch? Who has to organize Grandad’s shed? Chores at the Burrow were always a zero-sum games so he wasn’t sure why they bothered to fight about it.

Nevertheless, Albus was always able to maintain a clear-head, a natural peacemaker amongst a cadre of quick-tempered Weasleys and arrogant, high-powered ministry officials alike.

Perhaps that is why Albus is not surprised when he feels his younger sister tug at his elbow, spinning him around to face her, her emerald eyes wild.

“Al, you have to save me! Please, Christopher Hardwick is stalking me.”

“Lily, aren’t we a bit old to be dodging ex-boyfriends in ballrooms?” Albus asks, dark eyebrows raised.

“He was never my boyfriend for merlin’s sake,” she insists with a dramatic toss of her famous auburn hair, “We had some drinks and a quick snog a few times, and well, okay there may have been one teeny tiny shag, but that was it!”

Albus spots Christopher frantically searching around the ballroom, no doubt for the flirtatious redhead. At twenty-two, Lily is well aware of the power of her famous beauty and coupled it with a capricious personality that left her trail of discarded boyfriends still dreaming about her.

“Maybe you should have told him that?”

“I did!”

“You explicitly told him that you never want to snog him again?” Albus asks doubtfully,

“Well, not in so many words. I may need a lawyer one day. We Potters have a penchant for trouble after all.”

“I’m a lawyer, “ Albus says pointedly.

Lily waves a manicured hand dismissively, her gold bracelets jangling, “He wrote me a limerick. He rhymed Lily with ‘you make my insides go silly’. Not a single bawdy verse either. If it’s not a dirty limerick than what’s even the point?”

Albus rolls his eyes, “Come on, no better place to hide than in plain sight.”

He leads his sister to the crowded dance floor, placing one hand on her waist and taking her right hand in his left.

“He was such an insufferable bore, Albus. He went on and on about torts and magistrates and Wizengamot, blah,” Lily says as they waltz.

“Again, Lily, _I’m_ a lawyer.”

“Of course you are, Albus. It’s just so easy to forget when you’ve been away all these years,” Lily says twirling gracefully as Albus spins her, “Did I mention that I’m happy your back?”

“More than once, but it’s nice to hear all the same.”

As the song ends, Lily’s best friend Delilah rushes towards them in a flurry of blonde hair and blue silk.

“Potters! I desperately need a drink. I just danced with Zacharias Smith Jr.,” she says with a pout of her glossy pink lips.

“Do you think the two of you could stop men from falling in love with you for one night?” Albus asks sarcastically.

Delilah ignores Albus taking Lily’s elbow and leading the three of them towards the bar.

The Fancourt’s Summer Solstice Ball is always terribly formal and signals the start of the social season. The Season (capital S, of course) being the familiar rhythm of gathering in ballrooms or manor homes from June through August and typically concluding with The Potter Family Foundation Festival, a much less formal fete hosted by Albus’s parents that included performances from the world’s biggest magical rockstars. Between his sister’s antics and the usual faces of sparkling people in sparkling outfits, Albus feels seventeen again. Despite the fact that Albus has very purposefully spent the last seven years away.

Albus sighs and walks over to join his best mate, Noah Pearlsteen standing by the bar.

“Firewhiskey on the rocks,” he orders.

“Did you see Riordan Vaughn?” Noah asks gesturing to the ballroom entrance.

Albus follows his gaze to see a handsome man in well-cut black dress robes. He is impossible to miss as his presence demands attention with a strong, square jaw, perfectly coiffed light brown hair and a tanned face that bared lines of a life well-indulged.

“What is he doing here? He hasn’t shown his face in London in years,” Albus remarks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Thirteen years to be specific,” says a pretty redhead sidling up to Noah.

“Counting down the days until his return,” Albus teases his cousin Lucy.

“Please, I simply make it my business to know these things,” replies Lucy draping her arms around Noah’s neck.

She had been married to Noah for two years after being introduced by Albus during a Potter family vacation. Noah pulls her closer and kisses her softly on the lips. Albus looks away at the intimacy of their gesture. Despite a colorful dating history, Albus had never reached the stage in his relationships where casual kisses and public touching had seemed so easy and routine, signaling a permanence to their love.

“Oh speaking of which, I have an excellent big of gossip. You know Sienna Smythson, that horrid blonde that was the same year as James, but she attended Beauxbatons even though her father lived here, but her mum is French- well guess what she is up to now?” Lucy says, her warm brown eyes lighting up excitedly.

“Darling, we don’t care. But it doesn’t matter since I’m sure you’re going to tell us anyway,” Noah says sliding his arm down to her waist.

Lucy ignores him, “Apparently she’s pregnant. Bound to happen sooner or later of course, but that’s not really news. The potential father list is outrageous, Gaspard Garrel, a married Beauxbatons professor, Michael Baskville, the unfortunate-looking Interior Minister’s son, or her family’s groundskeeper who is actually quite attractive. Oh but don’t tell anyone, she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s up the duff until she gets a paternity test.”

“You’re a terrible gossip,” Noah says, though the way he is stroking her voluminous fiery red hair indicates it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“Gossip finds me,” Lucy insists, “I saw the poor girl crying in the loo. It’s a bit early in the night for that, mind you, but she blurted out the whole story to me.”

“Alright then, since it seems you really do know everything about everyone, why is Riordan Vaughn back in England?” Albus asks.

“Well as you know, he was living quite well in Vienna. Plenty of money, glamorous holidays with glamorous men and women at his side, etcetera. But apparently he had a falling out with his business partner.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that,” Noah says with surprise. He works as an executive vice-president at his family’s real estate development company Pearlsteen International, a rival of the Guggenheim-Vaughn Group.

“Well you wouldn’t, love, because it wasn’t exactly business related. Apparently, Josef Guggenheim caught Vaughn in a little dalliance with his wife. Anyway, you’ll be interested to know Vaughn is about to sell off his continental assets and open up his own firm here in London.”

“Darling, you are pure genius,” says Noah, his eyes alight, foreseeing a multi-million galleon acquisition in his very near future now that he knew of Vaughn’s business troubles.

“Don’t ever forget it,” Lucy responds with a sardonic smile.

“Noah, it looks like you’re going to be fighting for his attention for a while with the way those partygoers are throwing themselves at him,” Albus says, raising his nearly empty glass towards where half a dozen elegantly dressed men and women are circled around Riordan Vaughn like sharks catching the scent of blood in the water.

“Clearly, they know about the six houses, two yachts, and status as the richest wizard in Europe under 40,” says Lily joining the conversation with Delilah, holding champagne coupes in hand.

“Yes, buy why do you know that?” Albus asks, his tone highly accusatory.

Lily exchanges a look with Delilah and laughs but doesn’t respond.

“How old is he anyway?” asks Noah.

“Thirty-eight,” Lily, Delilah and Lucy respond in unison.

“You’re ridiculous, all of you,” Albus says with an incredulous laugh.

“He is handsome,” Lily says, smiling brightly at Vaughn across the ballroom.

“Yes and much too old for you,” Albus remarks, “Is there really no other man here you might be interested in? Not that I’m encouraging these things, but almost everyone is more appropriate than Riordan Vaughn.”

Lily opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by a shaky voice from behind.

“Um Lily, wo- would you like to dance?”

She turns to see Dev Kashmiri, a sweet if awkward young man who had played quidditch with her oldest brother James back at Hogwarts and had been one of Lily’s many admirers. Lily gives him a gracious smile before following him out to the dance floor, the train of her black silk gown trailing behind her. Still, she looks back at Delilah, Albus, Noah and Lucy with a grimace.

“Come on Lucy, let’s dance before some bloke tries to whisk you away from me too,” says Noah slipping an arm around her narrow waist and steering her towards the dance floor. She kisses him sweetly on the cheek as they walk away.

“One day I’ll be in love like them,” Delilah says with a smile.

“Noah and Lucy? Yeah, they’re pretty perfect together. I introduced them,” Albus says.

“In Positano, I was there, remember?” Delilah says with a nod, “Come on let’s see what there is to eat. I heard the chef for tonight is supposed to be the next big thing in Wizarding London. Lucy told me he’s hoping to partner with Noah if Pearlsteen International gets some of the Diagon Alley expansion properties.”

“He’s off to an auspicious start catering the Fancourts’ ball. They almost always hire the French-trained chefs,” Albus replies.

Delilah takes Albus’s gallantly offered elbow and they make their way to the great room where the food is being served buffet-style.

“So no one special fills your dance card tonight?” Albus asks his sister’s best friend.

Delilah laughs and shakes her head, “I’m sure you must have heard that Alastair Chang and I ended things.”

“Lily told me. I’m sorry, it must have been hard,” Albus replies his green eyes sympathetic.

“Oh you can fall out of love with someone pretty quickly when you realize how little they bother to believe in your dreams. He thought my writing was a nice hobby, but he had little patience for it. Always believed his stupid arithmancy equations were Godric’s gift. Tell me when was the last time anyone looked at arithmancy equations and felt moved to tears or smiled with joy.”

“Sounds like you made the right decision. Your work is quite amazing.”

“Thank you,” she replies sincerely, “You know I had a massive crush on you growing up.”

“I always wondered what happened there. I’m surprised you never fancied James. And did I grow up to be a massive troll or something?” Albus asks jokingly.

Delilah laughs, “Hardly, all you Potters are more beautiful than anyone has a right to be. But quidditch players? No thanks, it’s all broomsticks and balls with them and not the the good kind. Truth be told, I started taking Divination during my third year and I fell in love with Professor Firenze. Thirteen-year old me desperately wanted to run wild in the Forbidden Forest while wearing a flower crown surrounded by our little centaur foals.”

“I suppose losing out to a shirtless centaur with perfect abs makes much more sense. Merlin knows I had my own adolescent dreams about him back at school,” Albus laughs.

They enter the great room, the massive dining table laden with silver platters of miso-glazed cod, ginger-braised English peas, lush salads bejeweled with pomegranate seeds and fragrant sesame rice.

“Well if it smells as good as it looks, I think we are in for a treat,” Delilah says taking a porcelain dish from the far end of the table.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Albus says taking his own plate.

From across the massive room Albus hears a server ask, “Chef, when you would like us to start serving pudding?”

Albus, curious now about the chef with the sterling reputation looks up and follows the sounds of the voice.

He breathes in sharply, nearly dropping his plate in the process when he sees the trademark white blond hair and cool gray eyes.

He closes his eyes and the moments flash before him. Soft lips pressing together, wondering, asking, exploring. Long, sun kissed limbs twisted in bedsheets slicked with sweat.

The sound of glass shattering as a server drops a tray of champagne coupes slingshots Albus back to the present moment. Albus is certain the glasses won’t be the last thing to break tonight as his green eyes lock onto a face he hasn’t seen in years. He opens his eyes again, hoping they have deceived him. But no, he’s not mistaken. Once again, he sees him.

Scorpius _freaking_ Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Albus’s Gryffindor courage fails him in every possible way. He feels rooted to the spot as Scorpius Malfoy walks towards him.

“Scorpius!” Delilah trills next to him, “I can’t believe you are the much acclaimed chef of the evening. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Forgive me, I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says, leaning forward to greet Delilah with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

Delilah prods Albus gently and Albus realizes he’s standing there staring at Scorpius, his mouth agape like a grindylow.

“Scorpius,” Albus says with an awkward nod, “It’s nice to see you. Congratulations on the party.”

Scorpius’s eyes flicker towards the polished marble floor and back up again, “It’s nice to see you, Albus. I don’t think I’ve seen you since you left England.”

“You left first, “ Albus says in a tone he hopes is nonchalant.

Scorpius looks away again and furrows his brow. Perhaps not so nonchalant then.

He bites his lip as his eyes scan Albus shyly, “You’ve been away longer. You look well. Living abroad clearly agrees with you.”

Albus hates when people you haven’t seen for some time compliment you on looking well as if it was unexpected. As if you would simply stop bathing now that you were no longer in their presence.

Nevertheless, Albus takes the opportunity to look over Scorpius too. Back at school he had been a lean and rangy teenager, like someone had placed an extension charm on him until he was simply angles and elbows. Now the high cheekbones and sharp jawline are fuller in a pleasant way and complemented by broad shoulders and muscled forearms. His signature platinum blond hair is shorter on the sides and longer on the top drawing attention to his captivating grey eyes, and is that a tattoo peeking out from his shirtsleeves?

Albus clears his throat, “As do you. Delilah says you’re going to open a restaurant soon?”

Scorpius is about to respond, but they are interrupted by a deep baritone of a voice.

“Excuse me, Albus Potter is it not?” Asks the unmistakable Riordan Vaughn, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Behind Vaughn, Scorpius scoffs in disbelief.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Albus says extending his hand.

Vaughn holds Albus’s hand in his entirely longer than is necessary. His narcotic amber eyes scan over Albus in a way that makes his intentions all too clear and a hot blush creeps up Albus’s neck under the handsome older man’s gaze.

“Yes and I’m Scorpius Malfoy,” Scorpius interrupts clumsily, thrusting a hand towards Vaughn and forcing his attention away from Albus.

“Very nice to meet you,” Vaughn replies, politely shaking Scorpius’s hand with easy confidence.

Except Scorpius notices that Vaughn’s eyes barely flicker towards him and away from Albus. He does not at all appreciate the way Vaughn is looking at Albus like a ripe piece of fruit that he very much wants to eat. He thought English gentlemen were raised in the art of subtlety.

Scorpius is so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Vaughn escorting Albus back towards the ballroom until it is too late. He vaguely wonders if he should somehow interrupt them, but Scorpius has work to do and Albus is laughing and smiling brightly in an easy manner, so different from their earlier, stilted conversation. Clearly the handsome and charismatic Albus Potter isn’t missing Scorpius Malfoy.

* * *

Vaughn is a popular guest and after a brief conversation with Albus that leaves Albus vaguely under the impression that Vaughn may have been flirting with him, the businessman is whisked away, winking at Albus as he leaves.

Albus, alone in the ballroom now, sees Colette Wood dancing with her husband, a quidditch player named Heath Horncrest. Colette and Albus had dated most of fifth and sixth year until Colette met Heath at an England National Team training camp through her father Oliver Wood. It took Colette all of a week for her to declare him the love of her life and send Albus a letter from the training camp stating as much. Albus found himself rather unceremoniously single going into his seventh year at Hogwarts, though he and Colette remained friends. He couldn’t fault her for falling in love when they had simply been passing time.

In another corner of the room is Dorian Whitehorn, of the famous Nimbus broom family, laughing with his husband Gerard Lefevre, a French politician that Albus knows in passing. Dorian and Gerard fell in love in Ibiza just a week after Albus and Dorian had ended their year-long relationship. Albus was preparing to move to Tokyo after finishing his magical law studies. The breakup had been Albus’s idea, but home alone in his new flat he had been crying into his teacup nursing a broken heart when Dorian met Gerard. Albus didn’t even think it was possible to find true love in the hedonistic paradise of Ibiza. Now, four years later, Dorian and Gerard were married with a newly adopted baby girl at home.

Albus was not quite sure how or why he always seemed to be the one before ‘the one’, but he was certain advertising himself as such in the back page advertisements of Witch Weekly would make him a fortune.

“So, how was it? Seeing Scorpius again?” Noah asks appearing with Lucy fresh from the dance floor.

“You’re my best mate, you might have warned me.”

“That he would be here tonight?”

“Not just that.”

Noah gives Albus a quizzical expression.

“The restaurant?

His stare is still blank.

“In Diagon Alley?”

“Oh, so I should have mentioned that I’m in the early stages of a proposal to bid on the development of the unannounced Diagon Alley expansion project and that one of the dozens of businesses in that proposal may include a restaurant with a talented, but currently unknown chef who you had a summer fling with nearly a decade ago?”

Albus smiles sheepishly into his champagne coupe, “Well- when you put it that way.”

Noah laughs, “Cheers, mate.”

“So you and Vaughn,” Lucy says, changing the subject with a conspiratorial smile.

“Is that a question?”

“A mere inquiry, dear cousin. He seemed to show more than a passing interest.”

“I doubt he shows anyone more than a passing interest.”

“Did he ask to see you again?”

“No, he didn’t, I’m sure he was just trying to make a useful ministry contact.”

“That’s not what Delilah said.”

“Merlin, the whirlwind of gossip in a London ballroom is enough to to make me dizzy. It’s a wonder more socialites aren’t recruited as spies.”

“Glad to be of service,” Lucy says with a mock salute, “Now, aren’t you happy to be home?”

Albus just shakes his head and sips his champagne.

* * *

“Albus, how on earth you managed to convince those crackpots from MACUSA to drop the selkie hair clause from the Transatlantic Free Trade Agreement I’ll never know, but good work,” his boss Susan Bones says striding down the corridor from the minister’s office to the lift.

Albus following quickly behind says, “Thank you, madam.”

The department’s assistant, a freckle-faced boy and recent Hogwarts graduate named Wilson Weatherby smiles at Albus and leans over his desk eagerly, “You really got the Americans to drop selkie hair from the latest TAFTA draft?”

The Transatlantic Free Trade Agreement, better known as TAFTA, is the largest piece of legislation that Albus had worked on in his role as Lead Counsel for the ministry’s Department of International Magical Cooperation. The trade deal governing Western Europe and the United States was an important part of the newly appointed Minister Granger-Weasley’s platform.

Albus nods as he begins to file his notes from the most recent meeting with his aunt, the minister, “I told the President’s speechwriter that Minister Granger-Weasley would be willing to drop Sasquatch hide from our import list if they dropped selkie hair.”

“But that’s preposterous. The minister would never dream of including Sasquatch hide in our import list. The practice of Sasquatch hunting is barbaric at best and Minister Granger-Weasley is a creatures rights fiend,” Weatherby replies face full of disbelief.

“Yes, well she’s only been minister for four months and her reputation isn’t well known in the States the way it is in Europe. The Americans are notorious for not reading the fine print, only the bottom line. Overall this draft of TAFTA is still favorable to their imports. The Sasquatch hides are highly coveted on the blackmarket and the MACUSA has been trying to find a way to regulate and capitalize on it for decades. Now we get one of Minister Granger-Weasley’s sticking points removed from the deal and we don’t give up anything.”

“That’s bloody brilliant! So you basically just lied to them?”

“Of course not. People hear what they want to hear. Had the Sasquatch hide been in the draft we would have given it up. It just so happens that it wasn’t. As it is, the President is under pressure to get the treaty signed before the MACUSA takes a summer recess in less than forty-eight hours and they were ready to take the deal,” Albus says, sitting down at his desk in the shared office of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, “And timing is everything. Six months to a year from now when the minister is bringing forth her magical creatures trade legislation to the International Confederation of Wizards there is no way we would be able to get away with this.”

“You don’t think the Americans will retaliate then when they realize they gave up something for nothing,” Weatherby replies.

“Not a chance. They are on the wrong side of history on the mermish rights issues and it will be embarrassing at best. Give it a couple of years and it will seem as horrifying as the centuries of house-elf enslavement does now. Plus, they’ll just look greedy once they’re raking in the gold from the deals they negotiated with Portugal and Italy. Mind you, not that the Americans have ever worried about appearing greedy,” Albus says, brows raised as he uses his wand to scroll through the to-do list message board on the wall below the clocks representing seemingly every time zone in the world.

“Merlin, no wonder they say you’re going to be minister someday,” Weatherby says, voice full of admiration.

Albus shakes his head, but is secretly pleased by the comment, “I’d rather not have that discussion.”

“Nor would I,” a sharp voice says coldly from behind the desk at the other end of the office.

Albus looks up to see his erstwhile Hogwarts classmate and constant rival Casimir Nott.

“Nott, do you have a negative opinion of me and my work? How new and different for you,” Albus replies sarcastically.

“You won a singular battle, not a war, Potter. That hardly qualities you to be minister,” Nott says bitterly, standing and walking towards Albus.

With his dark hair and upturned dark eyes, he always rather reminded Albus of a cat. His general disposition of looking as though in the back of his mind he was plotting your demise did nothing to convince Albus otherwise. Albus always fancied himself more a of a dog person.

“This isn’t a war, Nott. And if you honestly think I would place myself in opposition to my Aunt Hermione then you should really reread your Sun Tzu,” Albus says rolling his eyes.

“Everyone thinks you’re so nice. The middle Potter child, the charming diplomatic star. They don’t see this side of you, the conniving side that would have made you a Slytherin on a different day.”

“Did you just insult your own house? Or do you- ”

Albus’s retort is interrupted by their boss striding through the office again, cloak in hand.

“Save the pithy remarks for your speech writing or not at all,” Susan says placing a grey knit beret atop her chin-length red hair, “Now it’s half past twelve and I’m late for lunch with the Swedish ambassador. I expect the briefs from the currency exchange meetings with Gringotts and the Spanish and Russian banks on my desk by the time I’m back.”

Albus sighs, “You speak Russian, right?”

Casimir nods, “I’ll leave the Spanish to you then. Weatherby, tea?”

The assistant nods and scrambles up from his desk to turn on the kettle in their office common room.

Truthfully, Albus is good at his job and Casimir’s comment about him becoming minster one day isn’t completely unfounded. He has the most famous last name in Wizarding England and a beloved, storied family tree. He speaks five languages, including Gobbledegook, and during his apprenticeship at the International Confederation of Wizards he cultivated diplomatic relationships with the key staff of ministers and representatives from magical governments all over the world.

Unlike most of the rumors and gossip that had been spread about Albus during his well-documented young life, minister one day, is not something he has any desire to contradict.His parents, his father Harry especially, do not quite understand his political ambitions. But Harry supported Hermione’s ministerial campaign and the two of them had spent decades making groundbreaking reforms that inspired Albus to work in politics in the first place. Albus has a plan for his future: appointment to the Wizengamot by thirty, minister of magic by forty. It’s a plan he’s been cultivating since his school days, first as prefect then Head Boy, President of the Wizarding Chess Society, and Supreme Mugwump of the Model Triwizard ICW.

By the time Albus and Casimir finish their debrief of the currency exchange commission meetings an hour later, Albus is absolutely starving. The debrief translations are a tedious, but necessary task. Representatives from all governments took their own notes and shared with each other’s staff after every meeting. Their boss, Susan Bones, always insisted on Albus and Casimir translating and writing up their debrief from all attendees’ notes so as not to miss out on any crucial interpretation or perspective. It was rather smart, Albus had learned, as the tiniest comment from a British goblin or wizard could be be misinterpreted as a horrific offense by a foreign wizard of other magical creature completely defeating the purpose of international magical cooperation.

Walking through the ministry’s lobby on his way to lunch in the dining hall, Albus waves at his Uncle Percy trying to get his attention through the din of the lunch rush and a group of enthusiastic protestors with picket signs.

“They’ve been here everyday this week. Just imagine disliking the idea of house-elf representation on the Wizengamot so much that you would spend hours standing in this cold and drafty lobby when you could be doing quite literally anything else,” Percy grumbles.

Albus nods in agreement, “It’s just an obnoxious minority too. The same crowd that’s probably still pro house-elf enslavement. Not that they’d admit as much. Could you even imagine saying so out loud? With Aunt Hermione as minister? It’s only a regulatory policy anyway, it could easily be overturned in the next election.”

Percy leads the way into the ministry’s dining hall, Albus following behind. Albus had always felt a special kinship with his Uncle Percy. He was much too serious and easily flustered by his more exuberant, naturally charming siblings. But Albus had come to appreciate his mum’s older brother. He could relate to his flaws, a middle child lost in the shuffle, a desperate desire to make their mark on their world and collect the accolades that signified him as the best of the bunch, a dry wit oft overlooked by a prim and proper demeanor. To his credit, Percy had always been honest with Albus about his shortcomings and how he had spent so much of his early years at the ministry trying to be the best that he had completely lost sight of himself and what he believed. Now working as the Head of Magical Transportation and as the father-in-law of Albus’s best mate Noah, Percy and Albus had ample reasons to spend time together.

Percy shakes his head, “This is Magical Britain, you are free to protest whatever you want, of course. But the disappointing bit is that I can’t even imagine these protests gathering support a couple years ago.”

“Susan thinks that it is has to do with sovereignty. The centaurs and merpeople have their own colonies. The elves don’t and they’ve long been incorporated into normal wizarding society as second-class citizens,” Albus says grabbing a sandwich and a pumpkin juice and sitting at one of the standard issue plain wood tables with Percy.

“I think she’s partially right. But I also think the Diagon Alley expansion project is making people barmy. All that money going to the project and the the truth is there are some peoplethat aren’t in favor of awarding property to non-human magical beings. I think it will get worse before it get’s better. It’s appalling, and it’s antiquated but it’s true. Your generation is better than us.”

Albus smiles thoughtfully, “I hope that’s true.”

* * *

“Al, it’s about time you show up,” Noah calls from the gilded bar of the Crown Royale hotel in Diagon Alley.

“Some of us poor sods actually work for a living,” Albus replies sarcastically, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

Noah is standing at the bar with his brother Jonah and Albus’s brother James. Next to them is the glossy-haired giggling group of Lucy, Lily, and Jonah’s on-again, off-again girlfriend Tabitha Whitehorn.

“Being seen at my hotel with the Potters is part of the family business,” Noah replies, signaling to the bartender.

“I’m going to start charging Pearlsteen International for appearances. After all, the Whitehorns drop gold in my vault for flying their brooms,” James jokes. As one of the most-talented and highest paid quidditch players in the league, James’s Nimbus brooms endorsement is worth nearly as much as his Puddlemere United contract.

“Now if only I could convince you to test out the new broom prototypes,” Tabitha teases, she’s a broom magineer at her family’s company, “But your agent told me he would feed me to a hippogriff if you were injured.”

“I’m not sure drinking with this lot is less dangerous,” Jonah says, handing James another firewhiskey.

“Maybe we can work something out once you win another World Cup, hmm?” Noah replies sarcastically.

“Ouch, too soon Pearlsteen!” James says shaking his head. It had been less than a month since England narrowly lost in the World Cup semifinal match.

In the opposite corner of the bar a pretty blonde witch smiles flirtatiously at James.

“Speaking of which, I think I could use some help licking my wounds,” he says finishing his drink and waving farewell.

“Don’t forget the silencing charm this time!” Albus calls after his older brother.

Since moving into James’s Chelsea flat Albus had learned more than he had ever wanted to know about James’s ever rotating carousel of sexual partners.

Tabitha slips her arms around Jonah’s neck and whispers something in his ear that makes him clear his throat and cheeks flush red, “I should get going too. Big case on. You know, an early morning of important auror things.”

Noah rolls his eyes as they say their goodbyes, Jonah sliding his arm tightly around Tabitha’s silk dress.

Albus looks around the bar, his eyes searching the room.

“He’s not here yet,” Noah says quietly.

Albus nods, taking the firewhiskey that Noah offers him. Apparently, some time in the year between Scorpius moving back to London and Albus’s return home, Scorpius had become friends with all of Albus’s friends. Which was annoying to no end because he certainly never had a reason to speak to Albus during their last two years at Hogwarts. Surely, Scorpius had other former Hufflepuffs to fill his social circle.

Except now that Albus thinks about it, Scorpius didn’t do much socializing during their last two years of school. Albus cannot remember seeing him at the Halloween Feast Ball or during Hogsmeade weekends. He doesn’t think he ever saw him in the library or lounging by the lake between classes. If they didn’t have a handful of classes together, he would have believed that Scorpius had left Hogwarts after fifth year altogether.

Not that Albus had been looking for him after that summer. He definitely hadn’t lingered too long around corridors as Scorpius left classes. Nor had he craned his neck awkwardly to catch the white-blond hair in his peripheral vision of the Great Hall.

When Albus did see Scorpius around the castle it was almost always with his cousin Astra. The little blonde witch had gone to live with the Malfoys and transferred to Hogwarts after her parents, both magizoologists, died in a Yacumama attack in the Amazon. The younger Malfoy girl had joined the Hogwarts dance troupe and become fast friends with Albus’s sister Lily and her friend Delilah Longbottom.

No, Scorpius had completely retreated into himself those last few years, leaving Albus hurt, confused and longing to understand.

* * *

Scorpius takes a deep breath to steady himself before walking into the bar of the Crown Royale hotel. The luxury accommodation, owned by Pearlsteen International, had been the site of any number of nights out with his friends the last couple of years, and there is absolutely no reason why tonight should be different, Scorpius tells himself. When Scorpius had moved back home a year ago his cousin Astra had reacquainted him with the Weasley-Potters and their high-society friends. Of course, Astra had spent the last year abroad doing field research as a mazoologist, but by now Scorpius had become just another member of their social circle.

Lily smiles broadly sweeping Scorpius into a friendly hug. He greets the rest of the group in turn with hugs and kisses on cheeks. He stops when he approaches Albus awkwardly, moving forward with arms outstretched and then stepping backwards.

Albus, ever the diplomat, extends his hand and smiles kindly, “Evening, Scorpius.”

Scorpius smiles back warmly, “Hi, Albus.”

“You’ve got some catching up to do, Scorpius,” Lucy says, waving to the bartender, “Wine?”

Scorpius is about to reply when he’s interrupted by Albus, “Shrivelfig gin martini.”

Everyone turns to look at Albus who has suddenly decided to study his Italian leather loafers with intensity.

Albus clears his throat, “That’s your drink, right?”

“Yeah, yes- . Yes, it is,” Scorpius confirms while looking at the dark haired boy curiously. Their eyes meet and for a just a few seconds they both think back to that summer.

‘ _Blech, this is just awful. I think we can cross asphodel rum off the list,’ Scorpius said scrunching up his nose and pouring out his glass._

_Albus laughed, “It’s not that bad. Try mixing it with the sassafras soda.”_

_Scorpius takes a sip of Albus’s proffered glass, “Still a very firm no. How come you like everything and I don’t like anything?”_

_“You’re a man of discriminating taste, that must be why you like me so much,” Albus says laughing as he stumbles forward and kisses Scorpius clumsily, but passionately on the lips._

_Scorpius laughs, lips still pressing together, as they drunkenly fall onto the settee in the parlor at Malfoy Manor. The boys are home alone and have decided that now they are fifteen they should really try and figure out their favorite alcoholic beverages. It seemed like something grown-ups should know. They’ve raided the Malfoy's extensive cellar and the coffee table was littered with half-empty bottles of asphodel rum, elderflower wine, and firewhiskey._

_“I don’t think I can get back up,” Albus says from where he is sprawled on top of Scorpius. Albus is breathing hotly against Scorpius’s neck and the strong stench of alcohol makes him smell like Scorpius’s bitter old grandmother, but Scorpius still can’t resist pulling up Albus’s face to meet his own, their lips crashing against each other’s and soon their hands are everywhere and, dear Merlin, Scorpius might die if he can’t have Albus’s bare skin against his, legs sliding together and bodies pulsing._

_Albus pulls back breathlessly, “Wait, we haven’t tried the gin yet.”_

_“What are we waiting for?” Scorpius grabs the bottle and Albus’s hand and the two of them drunkenly race upstairs to his bedroom._

“Hmm, how have I never noticed you like gin?” Lucy asks breezily as she orders Scorpius’s drink, breaking the tension.

“Probably because Scorpius is always late and you’re always two or three glasses of wine deep by the time he arrives, you little lush,” Noah teases, kissing her on neck and making her laugh.

Scorpius takes his martini and loosens his shirt collar. 

Albus bites his lip, noticing the top of defined chest muscles peeking out beneath Scorpius’s clavicle and quickly looks away.

“So do you have plans for the weekend?” Albus asks, hoping that conversation will distract him.

Scorpius shrugs, “Probably just working on some recipe development that I’ve been ignoring. I have had a lot of catering jobs lately. It’s been great to build excitement for the new restaurant in Hogsmeade, but it hasn’t left a lot time for me to work on the restaurant menu.”

“I hope we can expand near the Sovereign hotel and add a new restaurant space for you there too,” Noah says, “I know that the Hogsmeade location will be a smash with the students. It would be great to open more than one restaurant up there.”

Scorpius nods, “I’m okay with starting small. Especially because I’d really like to be in Diagon Alley once the expansion project gets underway.”

“We’ll make a restaurant empire out of you,” Noah adds.

“Well we’ll see. I hope this first opening is a success. Japanese cuisine with English ingredients is a bit of a departure for the Hogsmeade culinary scene,” Scorpius says.

“Albus adores Japanese cuisine after spending the last four years there. I’m surprised you never ran into each other,” Lily adds, her tone suggesting that they make up for lost time now.

“I was only there for a little over a year,” Scorpius explains to to Albus, “For culinary school and then I spent several years working all over east Asia; Singapore, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Beijing, a brief stint in Hanoi.”

“Speaking of new business ventures, I’ve picked up a little more information about Riordan Vaughn,” Lucy says, blue eyes sparkling with good gossip.

“Tell! He’s made the Season so much more interesting,” Lily says leaning in close to Lucy and causing Albus’s firewhiskey to slosh and dribble onto Scorpius’s sleeve.

“Apparently, he’s hosting a Black and White dinner soirée at his London manse in a couple of weeks. Very exclusive invite list, so of course everyone is going to pretend they were there. And I heard at the very top of that list is a particular gentleman,” says Lucy looking pointedly at Albus.

Scorpius coughs, choking on his martini.

“He can’t really be interested in you, can he?” Scorpius asks bluntly.

Albus’s face flushes with heat and embarrassment.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Noah steps in rising to his best mate’s defense, “Albus is clever and good-looking and- “

“No, no- I didn’t mean it like that,” Scorpius replies quickly, “No, I just mean it’s hardly appropriate. I mean just look at you, Albus. Obviously he’s attracted to you. But he’s nearly twice your age and Vaughn has the worst sort of reputation. And you work for the ministry and you’re a Potter-“

“Don’t you think I know that? It’s not exactly news, Malfoy,” Albus retorts, his words sharp with the sting of embarrassment.

Scorpius feels properly chastened.

“I’m- I’m going to get this cleaned up,” he says raising his stained shirtsleeve.

Scorpius walks towards the loo, but halfway there decides to make his way through the lobby and outside into the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Perhaps some fresh air will help him figure out why being around Albus Potter turns him into an absolute prize idiot.

He had grow up with his parents and grandparents at Malfoy Manor, three generations of pureblood pretension and too many affected manners, an ill attempt at concealing a sullied family reputation. Yet something about Albus’s presence made him blathering and clumsy and really it could not be understated- a first-class, champion idiot.

He takes a deep breath and sighs. He’d been back in London for a year after not being able to get away fast enough when he finished school. He knew of course that when Lily told him that Albus was coming back that they would see each other and that it would likely be uncomfortable. Except that uncomfortable isn’t quite the word for it. Being around Albus is like the best and worst of adolescence. The giddiness of a first crush, the desire to impress, the insecurity and embarrassment that every word and every gesture was the wrong one.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a man exit the gleaming hotel’s door. The high cheekbones, thick black hair and lean, graceful figure are unmistakably Albus.

Albus is using his wand to type a message into his two-way mirror. He looks up to see Scorpius and they make eye contact for a beat too long to pretend that they didn’t see each other.

He shoves his two-way mirror into his trouser pocket and gives Scorpius a half-smile.

“I thought you were cleaning yourself up,” Albus says gesturing to Scorpius’s sleeve.

Scorpius shrugs, “You would think as a chef I would know how to clean up food and drink spills, but I’m actually rubbish at household spells. I dyed a white shirt purple last week.”

“Allow me,” Albus replies, gently taking Scorpius’s wrist and turning up the cuff of his shirtsleeve, Scorpius’s skin soft and warm beneath Albus’s fingers.

Scorpius is desperately hoping that Albus can’t feel his pulse quicken beneath his pale skin. Albus mutters an incantation and the amber spot tingles then fades to the faintest outline of a stain.

“Thank you, you’re quite good at that,” Scorpius says letting his wrist linger in Albus’s hand.

Albus draws his hand back and shakes it gently. Scorpius tries and fails not to be offended by the gesture.

“During my first summer apprenticeship with a magical law firm in New York I spent about half my time researching for depositions and the other half on the domestic duties of the senior partners. My grandum is quite proud.”

“If you ever want a reprieve from politics, you’ll make a lovely house husband,” Scorpius teases, then regrets it. He’s not sure that their tenuous not-quite friendship can handle teasing.

Albus clears his throat but doesn’t respond. He steps back from Scorpius turning away as if to leave.

“I saw you once,” Scorpius blurts out before Albus can walk away, “In Tokyo, I mean.”

Albus frowns, “How come you didn’t say anything? I didn’t even know you lived there.”

“It was outside the ICW office. You were walking at the center of a small group. You looked so professional in your lawyer robes. So confident and ready to take on the world. So happy. Like I always imagined you would be,” Scorpius says, a slightly wistful look in his grey eyes.

Albus swallows hard and looks down at his shoes. He doesn’t know why Scorpius is telling him this. He doesn’t know what Scorpius hopes to gain by saying such things.

“Scorpius, what happened? Why- “

The two-way mirror in Albus’s pocket chimes, a sharp ding-ding-ding indicating that it’s his boss Susan.

Secretly, Albus is relieved. He’s not ready for the conversation about their past; he might never be ready. And so he pulls out his two-way mirror, mutters an excuse to Scorpius and answers the call.


	3. Chapter 3

“Thank you for coming in early. We know you have lots of work to do at your regular jobs, but you have all been asked to attend our breakfast meeting because we’d like to orient you to your role on the Diagon Alley Expansion Review Committee that we are affectionally referring to as D.A.E.R or ‘dare’,’’ the plucky, frizzy-haired employee from the Magical Communities and Neighborhoods Development Office announces to the ministry employees assembled in the conference room of the Department of Urban Magical Planning.

Albus always thought that amongst the alphabet soup of government work, it was rather unfortunate that the department created after the Second War to rebuild the decimated Wizarding Britain was abbreviated to D.U.M.P.

He sips his tea and thinks back to the conversation with his boss Susan the previous evening. The one that had fatefully interrupted that far more uncomfortable conversation with Scorpius.

_“Madam Bones, this seems like a wonderful opportunity, but can I ask why me? Casimir has more experience. He worked on the Hogsmeade historical preservation project right out of Hogwarts.”_

_“You sound as if you’re fishing for compliments, Albus,” Susan said, a smile in her voice, “Your work is impeccable and you will be excellent in this role. The whole point is to have a diverse group of ministry workers for the proposal reviews. I know it won’t make things easier around the office with Casimir. But you do have the right experience. You were on the ICW committee that worked on the reconstruction effort in the magical community of South Sudan and the restoration of sovereign magical Inuit communities in Canada.”_

_“Isn’t this a bit of a conflict of interest? You know I’m best mates with Noah Pearlsteen and Pearlsteen International is planning to bid quite aggressively for the Diagon Alley expansion project. Not to mention The Potter Family Foundation will also be involved. My mum mentioned that they are going to provide small business grants for squib and non-magical beings in several of the properties once construction begins.”_

_“Exactly, Albus, your family’s foundation won’t be involved for months. As for your relationship with the Pearlsteens, the reviews are scored anonymously. You won’t know which proposal is theirs. And there’s simply another reason Casimir could never be on the committee. You’re a Potter. Your name on this committee is a symbol of progress, of a future that means great things for the British magical community. Casimir Nott’s grandfather is in Azkaban. Casimir is a good kid, but no one in the current administration wants a descendant of a Death Eater and all that pureblood ‘magic is might’ bollocks getting involved. It’s not his fault, but you know as well as I do that perception is everything.”_

The assembled group of ministry employees from various departments sit around the conference table with lukewarm tea and day-old pastries. At the end of the table, Albus spots his Uncle Percy waving to him enthusiastically and gestures to the empty chair next to him.

Percy pushes up the bridge of his horn-rimmed glasses and looks seriously at Albus,”When Hermione, I mean the minister, told me you were to be on the committee I thanked my lucky stars. For some incomprehensible reason that Marco Bianchi fellow from the Goblin Liaison Office has it in that doxy-filled brain of his that we’re friends. Mind you serving on this committee is of the utmost importance and the fact that we were chosen is a sign that we are highly valued by the ministry. But that does not mean I’m going to talk to Bianchi.

Albus looks over at Bianchi speaking with another ministry employee and gesticulating wildly with his pastry, sending crumbs flying.

“Alright, let’s get started. For those who don’t know me, I’m Malandra Millstone and I’ll be serving as the DAER committee chair. So my darling DAER-ears, our mission is clear! We are responsible for reviewing the proposals and selecting the developers for the brand new Diagon Alley expansion. This is the largest real estate project that the ministry and Wizarding Britain has ever undertaken with the property valued at over 400 million galleons. This is London after all. We expect developers to apply for the project from all over the world, though of course, special consideration will be given to British based companies. The Request for Proposals was officially released this morning and we will be begin the proposal reviews in the next few weeks. The reviews will be scored anonymously to prevent bias and avoid the conflicts of interest that are inevitable in a small magical community like ours.”

The meeting lasts over an hour and by the time Albus arrives back at his desk there are dozens of memos shaped like little paper cranes flying, tweeting and fighting for his attention. Albus swoops his wand around the cranes and they assemble themselves neatly into a pile on his desk.

Susan steps out of her office and into the shared workspace dropping a heavy stack of parchment on Casimir’s desk.

“Casimir, good work on those updates for the non-human magical refugee policy. I think Lichtenstein and Austria will be amenable to the mountain-troll proposal. I left a few slight edits and then you can have Weatherby send it on to the minister’s office,” she says kindly.

“Thank you, madam,” Casimir says with a nod.

Susan turns to Albus, “In my office”

Susan sits behind her desk and gestures for Albus to sit opposite.

“How did it go this morning?”

“It was great, madam. Seems like a wonderful opportunity, thank you for the nomination,” Albus replies.

“Good to hear. Weatherby said you wanted to speak to me.”

Albus nods, “Yes, I don’t think we- , the ministry, is going far enough with the elfin representation regulation.”

“That’s a domestic issue, and it’s being led by the minister’s executive office. We’re not involved.”

“I know, but any member of Minister Granger-Weasley’s cabinet can bring forth legislation to be approved by the full Wizengamot. Legislation on elf representation in parliamentary bodies has been already been passed in nine countries and counting. Britain is behind the times and I think that it will make a strong statement about the minister’s positions. I can work with the Department of Magical Creature Welfare, gather the international literature, and develop the bill to put forth.”

“Albus, a legislative campaign is a massive undertaking. Unfortunately, the political climate is tense. There is a small, albeit loathsome, group that wants to put the popular Minister Granger-Weasley in her place. You will want to make sure you have the votes. Are you sure you have time for this? Are you ready for this sort of fight?”

“I’ll make time. You know I will. And you may not know this about me yet, Madam Bones, but I never back down from a fight.”

Susan smiles, “I went to school with your parents, I don’t doubt it. If you want to work on this then you have my support.”

Albus and Susan make their way back into the common office.

“Don’t forget we have the meeting on Class II potion patents with Joint European Ministries of Magic tomorrow. I need my talking points before you leave this evening,” she says brightly as she walks out the door and heads off to a meeting, followed by her assistant Wilson Weatherby.

In the couple of months that Albus had been working with the DIMC as lead counsel, he had noticed that Susan was a whirlwind of positive productivity. She was unlike any other high-ranking ministry official or diplomat that Albus had ever worked with; tough when she needed to be, but mostly a rare combination of intelligent, straightforward and empathetic. She rarely disliked anyone, so it certainly said something about you if she did.

“I heard you got put on the Diagon Alley project,” Casimir says without looking up from reviewing Susan’s notes.

Albus hesitates, unsure if he should confess to suggesting that the role should have gone to Casimir.

“Yes,” he replies finally, without offering more detail. After all, the committee members had all been asked to sign extensive confidentiality agreements.

“You’ll do well. It’s great exposure to the minister’s office,” Casimir says.

He walks over until he’s standing close to Albus’s desk then adds, “Of course I suppose you and the minister are related so- “

“Thank you, Casimir,” Albus says with a wry smile.

Casimir continues to hover until Albus finally looks up from the notes on simultaneousUK/international submission of potion patents.

“Out with it then,” Albus finally says irritably.

“I need to talk to you,” Casimir replies, his tone nervous.

“Obviously.”

“So I had a date last night.”

“How unfortunate for her.”

“She’s a squib.”

“Oh, Mummy and Daddy won’t like that.”

“Do you think you could stop being an insufferable prick for one whole minute?”

“Probably not. But, so what? She’s a squib. There are certainly worse things to be. I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t even want to know this much,” Albus replies, brows raised as he waits for this conversation to be over. Albus and Casimir are a lot of things, but friends is not one of them.

“She’s a squib and she’s- ,” Casimir hesitates, “she’s a, you know- , a party girl.”

Albus stares at Casimir blankly.

Casimir grimaces then says, “Like professionally.”

Albus’s emerald green eyes finally grow wide in understanding as he nearly falls out of his chair, “She’s a hooker?”

“I don’t think that’s her preferred term.”

“An escort, a call girl, a prostitute, a lady of the night,” Albus exclaims.

“Will you please shut the hell up?” Casimir replies through gritted teeth.

“How much did she charge you? Casimir, what were you thinking?”

“That’s the thing. We didn’t meet because I hired her, we just met at the grocery.”

“And your eyes met over the perfect organic aubergine?

Casimir ignores Albus, “It was last weekend. And then I asked her to dinner last night and it went well and I told her that I work as a general counsel at the ministry and she told me that she, you know...”

“I actually don’t, but why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to ask you what I should do.”

“I think I saw a muggle movie like this once. I’m sure she’s a hooker with a heart of gold- “

“You are such a bloody arsehole!”

“If you want my advice you could start by not insulting me.”

“Potter!”

“What can you do? You tell no one. Are you going to see her again?”

“I- “

“Let me rephrase, you’re not going to see her again. Not unless you want a career as general counsel of Knockturn Alley.”

“That’s hardly a progressive attitude. Her parents died when she was just sixteen. She wanted to stay close to the magical world because her sister was not yet school age and she was already clearly showing her magic. They had no other family, she had to provide and discovered it paid more than working as a barmaid- “

“I’m not judging her, this isn’t about her. But you know what I’m going to say, Nott. Do you think she’ll tell anyone? Or go to the press?”

“No, no she has more to lose than I do.”

“You wouldn’t be telling me this at all if you thought you could keep seeing her without risking scandal.”

Casimir sighs heavily, “I- , yes, I know. I know you’re right. It’s fine. It’s over. Just a one night thing.”

He begins to walk away and then turns back, “Uh, thanks.”

Albus rolls his eyes and mutters, “Anytime. At least one of us is getting shagged.”

* * *

Scorpius tastes the seasoning of the dashi for his celeriac and Welsh lamb ramen, rolling the warm silky broth across his tongue. He makes a note to adjust the mirin, writing in the notebook laying on the black marble countertop of Malfoy Manor’s expansive kitchen.

Of course, he knows that Japanese cuisine is quite traditional and that many of the chefs he had apprenticed with would laugh at him. But Scorpius is quite proud of the many recipes he has developed over the past year and he does think his mentor and dear friend Chef Isuki would be happy to know that Scorpius’s recipes all use locally and sustainably-sourced ingredients from the British Isles.

“That smell is rather enticing,” a graceful middle-aged blonde woman says swanning into the kitchen with a soft smile.

“Aunt Daphne, thank you for coming. After years of working in restaurants I have a hard time making dinner portions for just my father and I,” Scorpius says, hugging his aunt warmly.

Casimir already has a finger in the pudding, tasting the earl grey jelly and cream. “Looks a bit dodgy, but that’s quite good,” he says, picking up another small amber-colored square and popping it into his mouth.

“Manners, Casimir. Were you raised by werewolves?” His father Theodore huffs while spinning a silver signet ring on his right hand.

“You’re the one fidgeting dear,” Daphne says in her sons’ defense, “We’re just among family anyway and currently in the kitchen no less.”

“Yes, uncle, this is your fault for barging into the kitchen before I’m ready to serve,” Scorpius says teasing his uptight Uncle Theodore.

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted,” Theodore replies. He and Daphne make their way to the dining room.

Scorpius busies himself arranging pickled lotus roots, shaved carrots and cucumbers on porcelain plates for the Malfoy’s house-elves to serve as salad before the main course.

He notices his cousin Casimir, frighteningly undomestic, absently shifting a small container of furikake back and forth in his hands.

“Guess your father isn’t the only who fidgets.”

“Hmm,” Casimir says absently, looking at the jar in his hands and setting it down, “Oh, just thinking about work.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, not really. I just didn’t get placed on a project that I really wanted. Susan Bones chose Albus Potter instead. I’ve been working for her for two years now, I really thought she’d put my name forward.”

Scorpius stills at hearing Albus’s name. How could he have forgotten that his cousins and his sort-of-ex, sort-of-friend worked together?

“I’m sorry, that’s never a good feeling. How is that going?” Scorpius asks, hoping he sounds interested in Casimir’s work and not for any tidbit about Albus.

“What? Working with Albus? Fine, I suppose. We were something of rivals back at school and I’m afraid that the ministry is rather like Hogwarts. The popular kids are still popular and there aren’t many people that can compete with a Potter for popularity.”

“But, is he nice?”

Casimir rolls his eyes. “Hufflepuffs. Considering I’m as close to an enemy as he’s ever had, yes, he’s nice. He’s a smug bastard, but he is rather nice to everyone. He knows the names of the maintenance staff and remembers everyone’s birthdays. Always asks after their kids and their dogs. I think he genuinely cares about their responses too,” Casimir says, his tone revealing a bitter admiration.

Scorpius smiles. “That sounds like Albus,” he says before he can stop himself.

“How would you know?” Casimir asks, before answering his own question, “Oh that’s right, I always forget you and Astra are friends with Lily. Have you seen him around?”

Scorpius’s face flushes and he desperately hopes Casimir chalks it up to the steaming pot of rice he just opened, “A bit. Like you said, he’s nice, friendly.”

Before Casimir can ask any further questions, Scorpius calls their house-elf Trixie to begin service.

“I’m just going to get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the dining room?”

Casimir nods and Scorpius runs upstairs to change clothes and wash up.

Once in the dining room, he sees his aunt, uncle, and cousin waiting for him. He sighs as he takes his seat and Trixie hands him a note.

“Are we expecting Draco?” Theodore asks looking at the note in Scorpius’s hand.

Scorpius shakes his head and uses his wand to vanish the note, “No, he sends his regrets.”

“Well, how courteous of him to send a note,” Theodore says sarcastically.

Scorpius furrows his brow and his eyes flicker to his Aunt Daphne.

“I’m sure he’s just busy tinkering away with those rare magical objects. I’ve heard the clients at Bonaccord Antiquities can be the demanding sort.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, but takes his wife’s cue to change the subject, “How are the restaurant plans going?”

“Good, good. The menu is coming together. Please offer any critiques on tonight’s food. Aunt Daphne, I know you have impeccable taste.

“Everything is wonderful thus far,” she says kindly.

“And how about the restaurant space? Any clue on the developers bidding on the project?” Theodore asks, “I read in the Daily Prophet this morning that the ministry is now accepting proposals.”

Scorpius nods, “Yes, but that’s all I know too. Of course, I hope whoever is awarded the projectwill lease me the restaurant space. Either way, I have the new Hogsmeade place opening up at the end of summer and the Pearlsteens are hoping to invest in a couple more properties in Hogsmeade as well.”

“Hogsmeade is not London,” Theodore replies, “The finest chefs in the world are in London. But, we’ll have an inside track once Casimir is on the Diagon Alley project.”

“I’m not,” Casimir says bluntly.

“Not what, love?” Daphne asks.

“I’m not on the committee. Susan Bones nominated Potter.”

“That’s absurd! You have the experience and you’ve been working for Bones for years. What could she have been thinking?” Theodore responds, his tone irate.

“It’s a very public project. It’s unlike anything the ministry has done before. They need it to be well-received and that means no controversy,” Casimir says matter-of-factly.

Scorpius notices his cousin’s tone is quite different than it had been during their discussion in the kitchen. Casimir may have agreed with his father, but he’d rather be on the receiving end of a hippogriff hoof to the face than admit it.

“These bloody self-righteous ministry officials and their grandstanding. Pretending they are the epitome of tolerance when it’s clear they’re just trying to shut out the old wizarding families. As if we weren’t the ones who kept Wizarding Britain thriving for centuries,” Theodore says bitterly.

Daphne sighs as if it’s a sentiment that she has heard many times over in her nearly thirty years of marriage.

“Darling, you know as well as I do that Minister Granger or Susan Bones don’t make these decisions lightly. They have to protect the office of the minister. Don’t make it out to be some sort of conspiracy.”

Theodore opens his mouth to say more, but the stern look in Daphne’s eyes stops and he begins to stab his ramen with his chopsticks, a look of resignation on his face.

Scorpius laughs softly, “My father used to call that the godforsaken Greengrass gaze.”

Daphne smiles at Scorpius, “He’s not wrong. Your mum would have loved these recipes, Scorpius. She would be very proud.”

Scorpius gives his aunt a grateful smile, “Thank you, Aunt Daphne.”

* * *

“The carriage will be here in ten minutes,” yells Noah from the third floor corridor of the Pearlsteens townhouse.

Lucy and Lily shriek with laughter and run around Lucy’s dressing room trying to find their stilettos and pack lipsticks into tiny, sparkly bags.

It is to be the usual sort of routine. Drinks served and socializing followed by a formal dinner with too many forks and then dancing.

“What are the chances the girls will be ready on time?” Albus asks from where he and Noah are playing gobstones in the parlor at the Pearlsteen’s Mayfair townhouse.

“Considering the invite says the party started twenty minutes ago...” Noah replies loudly, glancing at his watch.

“It’s called being fashionably late, dear husband of mine,” Lucy trills the first to arrive downstairs in a form-fitting, low cut black silk gown with the train sliding down the stairs behind her.

“Gorgeous as always,” says Noah, ever the doting husband extending his hand towards Lucy and pulling her in close.

Lily walks down next, her caped gownmaking a dramatic entrance befitting the statuesque redhead. Albus gallantly helps pick up her trailing cape.

“Scorpius just sent a message, he’s on his way,” Lily says slipping her two-way mirror into her diamanté clutch.

“I didn’t know he was your date- “ Albus replies, but is interrupted by the sound of the fireplace roaring to life.

Scorpius steps out of the floo dusting his trousers and shaking his wrist, “These bloody cuff links. I’m a disgrace.”

Whatever Albus had been expecting to see when he turned at the sound of his voice, he certainly wasn’t prepared for Scorpius to arrive like a slightly dusty Adonis, so handsome it makes Albus’s breath catch his throat.

The blond hair swept back, shiny and touchably soft. The sharp line of his dress robes emphasizing his broad shoulders. The silver trim along the collar that shimmers with every step. The sensuous lips that Albus wants to trace with his fingertip and see if they are as pillowy as he remembers.

“Here,” Albus clears his throat, “Let- , let me.”

Scorpius extends his wrist and Albus gets to work on the dainty silver cufflinks.

“How did I manage before you came back?” Scorpius asks softly, his pulse quickening beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt.

Albus doesn’t say anything, but he can feel the heat radiating from Scorpius’s smooth skin and smell the soft, woodsy scent of his soap. Scorpius takes his breath away, and after all these years that is certainly not something he expected.

* * *

When they arrive at Vaughn House it is immediately apparent why the theme is black and white as it suits the Knightsbridge mansion’s existing decor. Dizzying black and white marble floors grace the foyer and adjacent ballroom. The walls are paneled in white wainscoting and the elaborate window frames painted a high-gloss black.

“Tres chic,” remarks Lily and across the dance floor she spots her oldest brother James sipping a cocktail with his friends Luella Biltmore-Fawley, Freddie Weasley, Jonah Pearlsteen, and Tabitha Whitehorn.

“There you are,” James says as he greets his siblings and their friends.

“You girls look incredible,” Luella remarks.

“As do you. Where are Colin and Brigitte? Lily asks, noticing a couple missing from James’s close knit group.

Freddie waves vaguely up the stairs, “Probably making baby number five.”

“Vaughn certainly knows how to throw a party and he’s not afraid to bring out good scotch either,” Jonah says holding up his glass.

“He’s going to be making a splash in London in more ways than one,” James adds.

“Apparently, Vaughn is planning on selling most of his continental assets back to Guggenheim and then open his own firm here,” Noah says, “I’m surprised Vaughn will be walking away from the dissolution of the Guggenheim-Vaughn Group with enough liquidity to start up such aggressive business here. I was hoping he’d be too tied up to bid on the Diagon Alley expansion together.

His family’s firm had been tracking the Guggenheim-Vaughn Group dissolution since Lucy had informed him of Vaughn’s return.

“Yes, it’s strange because I expect it will take about a year to settle the separation. But his continental assets are vast and I’m sure he has large investments outside of his old company that he could use for startup money,” Jonah adds.

While Jonah may not have been part of the family business, he had been raised the heir apparent until he was fifteen and declared he had no intention of joining Pearlsteen International. The Pearlsteens parents are American and had arrived in England shortly after the Second War flush with gold from their stateside hotel chain that spanned wizarding communities from Shanghai to New York and ready to build the same sort of empire in Europe.

Suddenly, the lighting in the room dims followed by the chatter in the ballroom. From the dining room a string quartet plays beckoning them to the table for dinner. The massive room has two long antique white oak tables laden with a black silk table runner and elaborate place settings of porcelain and silver to match the chandeliers.

Albus laughs softly at the drama of it all. Though he has yet to see their illustrious host for the evening, clearly Riordan Vaughn had a strong commitment to his aesthetic.

As the crowd of the party guests mill around the room looking for their places at the table, Albus fells a slight tug at his elbow.

“Mr. Potter, you’ve been seated next to Mr. Vaughn,” says the high-pitched voice of a house-elf.

Albus nods and says his thanks to the elf before taking his seat to the right of Vaughn. He has been a part of enough society dinners and diplomatic missions to know that this is the seat of honor at the table.

Further down the table Lily and Scorpius are seated next to each other. Lily whispers something to Scorpius that makes him laugh. Unintentionally, he catches Albus’s eye. His expression immediately changes to something inscrutable, but there is not time for Albus to overanalyze the situation because the music fades and Riordan Vaughn finally graces his guests with his presence.

He steps forward, the candlelight catches on his amber eyes and the silver temples of his dark hair in a manner that only makes him more handsome.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. I am immensely happy to be back in my hometown of London to celebrate the opening of The Vaughn Company. Much has been said about my business practices and me, and I have no doubt that much more will be said. But tonight I invite you into my home because I believe that the people in this room share my vision of a modern British wizarding community with prosperity to resist the darkness of the generations before us. Now enough of that. Please eat, drink and be merry.”

With a flick of his wand the plates begin to fill with fresh Isle of Mull scalllops in a creamy lemon sauce, chateaubriand and braised summer vegetables.

As Riordan takes his seat next to Albus he leans in quietly and says, “Thank you for being my dinner companion.”

Albus smiles, “I expect that you have no shortage of men and women willing to be by your side tonight?”

“My reputation precedes me then. Don’t you think that makes my selection all the more worthy?”

Albus ignores Riordan’s arrogant comment, but he can feel every witch and wizard at the table watching them.

“You’re causing quite a stir and I have a feeling you like it that way.”

Riordan laughs and Albus feels a thrill of pleasure, “You know as well as I that people like something to talk about, and new blood is always welcome in the famously small world of wizarding society.”

“You’re not so much new blood...”

“Are you calling me old? Let’s call is experienced, shall we?” Riordan replies, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I’m sure you could show me a thing or two,” Albus says with slightly more confidence than he feels.

“I will if you let me,” Riordan says. Under the table, he places a hand gently on Albus’s knee and leans in close whispering, “the choice is entirely up to you.”

Albus feels his heart speed up and a pleasant shiver run down his spine as Riordan leans his close. Riordan releases his hand and turns to the woman on his left.

* * *

Food is one of Scorpius’s greatest pleasures in life. Truly there is nothing better than being transported away by the fresh buttery texture of perfectly cooked scallops or the plump juicy tomatoes and grilled courgette with fat flakes of sea salt. And Scorpius want nothing more than to be transported far, far away from this present moment as he stabs at his plate.

“Scorpius, love, you know that poor scallop is already dead. No need for mutilation,” Lily says placing her hand lightly on Scorpius’s wrist.

Scorpius looks up and shakes his head, “I’m sorry, what?”

Lily takes his knife and rests it on the edge of his plate, “You know it’s been months since he last went on a date.”

“Who?”

“Albus, of course.”

“Lily- “

“That is the reason you’re acting all homicidal, isn’t it?“

“I’ve just been distracted.”

“Yes, by my brother.”

“That’s not- ,“ Scorpius sighs spotting Lily’s knowing expression, “Do you think he’s really interested in Vaughn?”

Scorpius glances down at the end of the large dining table where Albus and Vaughn are talking and laughing.

“I think Albus is having fun with Vaughn’s attention. Merlin knows I’d be enjoying it too. Do you think I should be offended that Vaughn chose Albus over me?”

He rolls his eyes. As much as he adores the youngest member of the Potter family and loves her like a sister, he also knows that Lily’s world revolves around Lily.

“I think it’s amazing you’ve never tried to steal one of Albus’s boyfriends before,” Scorpius replies.

Lily laughs, “We made a pact as pre-teens because we were both desperately in love with the lead singer of that American band, The Red Wicked.Then again, I’m certain we both would have reneged on that pact if either of us had actually met Charlemagne Cortez.”

As dinner ends, Lily and Scorpius find Lucy and Noah again.

“That was quite a statement Vaughn just made,” Lily says.

“You know Vaughn’s ambitions may affect your restaurants too, Scorpius. There’s no guarantee he won’t be inserting his own friends and associates into the properties he buys up,” Lucy says gesturing to where Vaughn is talking to an older witch, a well-known chef in the wizarding world.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Scorpius says.

“Hadn’t thought of what?” Albus asks, rejoining his friends.

“The boys are worrying about business. Noah and Scorpius think Vaughn is going to buy Wizarding London right out from under them,” Lily explains.

“It’s not ours yet. That’s kind of the point,” Noah says.

“Let me help,” Albus says.

“What? How?” Scorpius asks, slightly alarmed.

“No, listen. He already said he wants to spend more time with me. Let me find out about his plans.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Noah says thoughtfully.

“No, absolutely not, it’s- can’t you get in trouble for that sort of thing? You work the ministry. And he’s so old, it’s practically predatory,” Scorpius interjects.

“First of all, I’m not going to be doing anything for him on behalf of the ministry. I won’t do anything to jeopardize my job. And secondly, he would be the prey,” Albus explains defensively.

“How would you even get him to tell you anything?”

“Scorpius, you don’t really need me to provide details, do you?” Albus’s tone is stubborn and dripping with a double entendre that Scorpius really does not want to explore.

“Albus- “

Albus looks away from Scorpius, mouth firmly set, “Let me see what I can find out. If he does tell me something, then bully for you. If not, well no harm done.”

“You can’t know that. There may very well be harm. I told you, I think Vaughn is dangerous.”

“Look, I’m going to be spending time with him either way, so it can help you or you can continue in ignorance,” Albus says sharply before stalking away.

“Scorpius, you do have a unique talent for bringing out Albus’s temper,” Noah says, brows raised.

Scorpius sighs and feels a sharp pang in his chest watching Albus stomp up the stairs away from the party.

* * *

Albus strides out of the ballroom, trying to get outside for some fresh air. Bloody mansions and their bloody corridors of identical doors with seemingly no end in sight.

Why did being close to Scorpius Malfoy still make Albus Potter feels as jumpy as a cage of Cornish pixies? It had been years since their ill-fated summer fling and they had been stupid, hormonal teenagers. Surely, Scorpius shouldn’t care about whether Albus engages in another ill-fated affair with Rioridan Vaughn.

He tries two locked doors, then a third behind which he does indeed find James’s friends Colin and Brigitte mid-shag and quickly closes the door. Those two were well on their way to giving the Weasley-Potter clan a run for their money.

Finally, behind a fourth door, he storms out to find a balcony and his father Harry alone with a firewhiskey in hand.

“Good Godric, Albus, you look like you’re ready to duel at dawn,” Harry remarks.

“Do we still have duels? We should have more duels,” Albus huffs.

“I’ve had quite enough fighting for one lifetime,” Harry replies placidly.

Albus flushes and then with another great sigh leans against the balustrade, his head in his hands.

“You know it’s about this time of night that Hugo usually joins me out here to escape from the crowds,” Harry says.

“He snuck off to Vaughn’s library right after dinner,” Albus says.

“He has always enjoyed a quality first edition.”

The two stand in silence for a while. Albus knows his father is not really a high-society type at heart. He is a natural leader, but Harry had grown reluctantly into his charisma as befit his role in the wizarding world post-war. Everyone wanted a piece of him and he knew he had a responsibility to play the hero. Harry had eventually become Head Auror and then unexpectedly retired early to play grandfather to his godson Teddy’s first child. He still participated in the ministry as a consultant on occasion, but in between grandfather duties he mostly helped Albus’s mum Ginny, a retired quidditch player, manage The Potter Family Foundation.

“Of all my children you are the one who is least prone to dramatics,” Harry says.

“That’s what people tell me. But lately...”

Harry doesn’t say anything, waiting for Albus to elaborate in his own time. He knows Albus typically chooses his words carefully, always playing the diplomat.

“Scorpius, he just- he gets under my skin. I don’t know how, but he does,” Albus continues.

Harry smiles at Albus. “Yes, well the problem with someone getting under your skin is that they sometimes take up residence there,” he says, thinking fondly of his wife.

“Speaking of which, I better find your mother before she comes for my skin,” Harry says, heading back towards the door.

Albus stands to follow his father back to the ballroom. Harry immediately finds Ginny with that secret homing device married people always seemed to possess. He whispers something in her ear that makes her throw her head back and laugh brightly. Their love and partnership seemed somehow untouchable to Albus. So much strength and history. So much trust and affection. He longs to be a part of such a thing, the exchanging of looks and secret smiles in crowded rooms.

He can’t quite keep himself from scanning the room for Scorpius subconsciously.

“He’s dancing with Lily,” says Lucy’s familiar voice from behind.

Albus turns, “Oh I wasn’t- ,“ but he gives up at Lucy’s knowing expression and laughs slightly embarrassed.

Lucy nods towards the center of the room and sure enough there is Scorpius twirling Lily around the dance floor as she smiles brightly.

“Let’s dance,” Albus says, recovering what remains of his composure and leading Lucy to join the others.


	4. Chapter 4

Scorpius stretches his arms languidly and checks the time on his watch sitting on the bedside table. It takes him a minute to realize he is in one of the guest rooms at the Pearlsteens Mayfair townhome. Nearly ten in the morning after another late night out with Lily.

Whenever the pretty young socialite is between boyfriends, she asks him to accompany her out on the town. These days, being a Malfoy does not garner an invitation, not after the second war. Scorpius doesn’t think the family’s “position” is worth protecting anyway, he only hopes that his last name won’t be a barrier to the new future he is trying to build for himself.

He sighs as he thinks about the rest of the night proceeding more or less as it always did. Beautiful people dancing and drinking champagne. James Potter left with a gorgeous girl he wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning. Lily snogged a boy who had been in her year at Hogwarts in a dark corner of Vaughn’s mansion. Lucy and Noah had danced and gossiped with the best of them.

The only unusual thing was, of course, the presence of Albus Potter. He’d been back in England for not quite three months and had proceeded to turn Scorpius’s world upside down. Scorpius was aware of his every movement, his stupid, traitorous heart speeding up with every smile in his direction.

He walks into the adjoining bathroom to splash water on his face. Still in his grey pajama pants and an ancient navy jumper, he makes his way downstairs where Lily is already seated with Noah and Lucy.

“So then she poured half the bottle of firewhiskey all over his bespoke dress robes, mind you she’d already drank the other half, and stormed out! Poor woman hired me on the spot as her estate agent to divvy up their property during the divorce,” Lucy says, regaling Noah and Lily with a moment of scandal that Lucy just happened to have witnessed.

Scorpius couldn’t help but admire the gregarious Weasley cousin turned London socialite’s unique talent for using the latest gossip to further her career. After she wed Noah she hardly needed the income, but working as an estate agent allowed her a good excuse to peek inside the homes of other people and get to know absolutely everyone. Basically, she managed to be one of the top estate agents in Wizarding Britain simply by being herself.

“Morning,” Scorpius says sitting down at the table. A cup of tea miraculously appears in his hand and the small porcelain jug of milk begins self-pouring until he waves his hand for it to stop.

Albus walks in wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a well-worn Holyhead Harpies tee. He smiles a little shyly at Scorpius.

Scorpius gestures to the spot next to him at the table trying to convey that their spat the previous night is forgotten. When Albus sits, he nods at Scorpius and reaches out under the table as though to pat his knee, but pulls his hand back quickly.

“Morning post is here,” the Pearlsteens house-elf says carrying in a silver platter with a stack of letters.

“Thank you, Linus,” Lucy replies brightly, rifling through the letters. It’s the usual assemblage of magazines, a financial newspaper, social invitations, a letter from her younger sister Molly, another from her mum.

“Al, one here for you,” Lucy says, brandishing a silver envelope to her cousin, “and one for you, Scorpius.”

Albus’s silver envelope is thick and the black wax seal has an elaborate letter V pressed into it. Albus slides his finger under the envelope flap and reads the message:

_Tuesday, 2100 at Crown Royale bar_

_The choice is entirely up to you_

Albus blushes a bit and quickly stuffs the envelope into the pocket of his pajamas, grateful that everyone else at the table is currently buttering toast and flipping through the newspaper.

All except Scorpius who is reading through a letter from his cousin Astra, a magizoologist like her late parents, and currently living in Spain. For the last couple of years she had split her time between Malfoy Manor and her travels. He assumes she is simply writing to notify him of her latest travel plans, but his jaw drops as he finishes the letter.

Lily notices his alarmed expression from across the table, “Scorpius, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I better get home. I have to speak with my father at once,” Scorpius says, rising abruptly.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lily asks face etched with concern.

“Um, er, yes, actually that’s a good idea.”

And with that both Lily and Scorpius dash up the stairs to dress for the day.

“What’s going on?” She asks as soon as they are out of earshot of the rest of the group.

“It’s Astra. She eloped. She eloped yesterday!”

“What?” Lily exclaims her full lips parted wide in surprise, “That’s barmy! Is it that muggle man she’s been dating the last couple months?”

Scorpius nods, “But that’s not even the surprising bit. His mother saw Astra do magic and is going completely mental. She wants to report her to the authorities.”

“Well, that happens right? That’s the whole point of the accidental magic team at the ministry,” Lily says reassuringly, “Listen, we need Albus. He’ll know what to do.”

“Lily- “

She cuts off his protests, “No, we need Albus. Does your father know yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’m going to change and then tell Albus to meet us at Malfoy Manor,” Lily says.

Within twenty minutes Lily has provided Albus with a quick overview of what has transpired and just like she knew he would her brother has immediately transformed into international lawyer mode.

“We can have our ministry contact theirs. This can’t be the first time something like this has happened,” Albus says calmly, looking at the concern on Scorpius and Lily’s faces.

“I think it’s bad, Albus. Astra made it sound like the entire muggle village that they’re in is after her,” Scorpius says, face crumpled in distress.

Albus takes a deep breath and places his hands on Scorpius’s shoulders, his deep green eyes meeting the other boy’s worried gaze.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. I don’t have a lot of experience in muggle/magical marriage law, but I’ll touch base with the Muggle Liaison Office and see if someone can get in touch with us. In the meantime, I’ll also contact Susan and see if she can assist us with pushing through an emergency portkey for their immigration,” Albus says, squeezing Scorpius’s shoulders gently.

They say their goodbyes to Noah and Lucy and floo to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

“Dad! Dad, are you here? Scorpius calls from the massive living room of his childhood home. The room’s three-story ceilings echoes ominously.

Scorpius’s cocker spaniel, Honey, comes bounding into the room joyfully. Scorpius picks up Honey and hugs her tightly to his chest.

“Master Scorpius,” greets their house-elf Trixie.

“Please, I need my father immediately,” Scorpius tells the elf. Trixie apparates away with a pop and within seconds his father joins his son and the Potters.

“Scorpius? What’s wrong?” Draco asks, his face matching Scorpius’s concerned expression. Draco looks at Lily and Albus suspiciously. In his experience, it was rarely a good thing when the Potters showed up unannounced.

“You should sit down,” Scorpius says, gesturing to the silver brocade and carved wood settee.

“Scorpius, tell me now before I think the worst,” Draco commands.

“Okay, okay, everyone is fine for now,” Scorpius says, trying to placate his father’s alarm, “I had a letter from Astra this morning. She’s eloped with a Spanish muggle boy. His parents are furious about the marriage and his mother saw Astra doing magic and now she’s, I don’t know- they’ve called the local muggle authorities. Astra and her new husband want to come here, but there are issues with immigration and violating the statute of secrecy and I don’t know all the legal bits, but it’s a mess.”

“Bloody hell, why didn’t she come to me immediately,” Draco says, standing as if ready for action.

“I don’t know. really I don’t. But I’m telling you now,” Scorpius replies earnestly, “Albus contacted the ministry and they should be getting in touch soon.”

Just then, the fireplace roars to life with a floo call, “Albus?”

Albus scrambles over to answer the call, relieved to see his ministry colleague Maggie Holmsby from the Muggle Liasion Office.

“Everyone up to date?” Maggie asks and as they nod, she proceeds, “First things first, we need to alert the ministry that a British citizen has violated the statute of secrecy while abroad. It’s best if you do that before they find out about it themselves.”

Albus turns to Lily, “Could you do it, please?”

Lily nods, “Of course, I’ll do it now.”

She pulls out her two-way mirror to contact the Accidental Magic and Obliviator Headquarters emergency line.

Maggie continues, “The first obstacle is getting the Spanish magical law enforcement to release Astra and her husband for travel. I don’t think they’ll have trouble taking the case over from the muggle authorities, but if for some reason they think Astra is dangerous- “

“She’s not,” Draco exclaims, “I don’t know what happened, but she’d never hurt anyone.”

“And I’m sure that’s the conclusion the Spanish will come to as well. In the meantime, Mr. Malfoy, we will see if someone from the British Improper Use of Magic Office can gather more details. Albus, let me know as soon as you hear from Susan about their portkey approval so we can have someone meet them at customs.”

“Do you think they’ll be detained?” Draco asks anxiously.

“No, not if we can help it. Again, an expedited portkey and immigration paperwork through your office will help us along, Albus.”

“Al, I think we should tell Dad,” Lily chimes in, rejoining the conversation.

Albus nods, “I agree.”

Lily looks at Scorpius who looks inquiringly at his father.

Draco nods curtly, “Alright, I’m not sure what help he’ll be, but fine. Merlin forbid a single drama occurs without Harry Potter getting involved.

“I’ll go talk to my dad now,” Lily says.

“I can- “ Albus starts to stand, but next to him Scorpius places a hand on his knee and presses back down. Albus just looks at Scorpius’s pleading eyes and nods.

Maggie says her goodbyes with promises to follow-up soon.

“I think we’ve done all that we can for now,” Albus says.

Next to him Scorpius is rubbing Honey’s soft ears absentmindedly. The silly spaniel oblivious to the entire situation simply leans into his affection and rolls onto her back in hopes of a belly rub.

The adrenaline of the the last few hours was finally starting to dissipate. Scorpius feels himself taking full, deep breaths for the first time since receiving Astra’s letter that morning. Now there is nothing that can be done except hope their plan is successful.

Albus’s two-way mirror chimes, “Excuse me, this is Susan.”

“Right, well sitting here panicking can’t be good for us. Tea?” Scorpius asks. As if on cue, Trixie is back and looking at them inquiringly, but Scorpius waves her away. He desperately needs to do something with his hands so he walks quickly to the kitchen and turns on the kettle.

Draco follows his son closely into the kitchen. “You did a good thing- getting the Potters involved, I mean,” his tone is softer now that the initial panic has worn off, “I just can’t help but wonder why she reached out to you first. Have I really been so distant that she felt like I wouldn’t help her?”

Scorpius shrugs awkwardly. Truthfully, he thought that his father had been in a sour mood for eight years, and was perhaps the only person worse than Scorpius when it came to talking about his feelings.

“Maybe she just thought since I already knew she was dating the muggle boy that it would be easier for me to help her out.”

Draco is silent while he watches Scorpius measure out tea leaves into a porcelain teapot.

“You know that you and Astra are the only good things in my life, don’t you? I know that I’m an absolute curmudgeon, but I’d do anything for both of you,” Draco says finally.

Scorpius nods, “I know, Dad. Astra does too.”

“Malfoy!”

Draco and Scorpius exchange a look as they hear the dulcet tones of Harry Potter calling from the living room.

“For Salazar’s sake, you didn’t need to come here, Potters,” Draco says irritably when he walks into his living room to find Harry and Ginny accompanied by their godson Teddy’s youngest child, eight-year old Amelie.

“You involve two of my children, of course, I’m coming,” Harry says defensively.

“To be clear I might have called James too, but uh, I didn’t see how a quidditch player would be of much use,” Scorpius replies dryly.

Ginny and Lily snicker as both Harry and Draco stare at Scorpius who has the decency to blush as his ill-timed joke.

“Tea?” Scorpius asks.

“Please,” Ginny says graciously, making herself comfortable on the Malfoy’s stodgy Victorian-era furniture.

“Do you have any biscuits?” Amelie asks hopefully. She immediately kicked off her shoes and is laying on the rug petting a happy Honey, the spaniel sprawled beside her.

Scorpius laughs, “I’m sure we do.”

“Chocolate chip? No, ginger!” Amelie declares victoriously.

“Are you running a daycare? Or perhaps a zoo?” Draco asks Ginny and Harry, gesturing to Amelie.

“We were in the middle of spending time with Amelie whilst Teddy and Victoria took Auggie school shopping in Diagon Alley. And then Lily called saying a Malfoy was in trouble- again,” Harry shoots back, eyes narrowed.

“And don’t think I won’t bat-bogey hex you in front of her if you get a smart mouth,” Ginny adds.

“Can you? Uncle George and Uncle Ron have always said it’s so good and I’ve never seen it!” Amelie says excitedly.

“I think I’m going to need something stronger than tea,” Draco mutters, mostly to himself.

Hearing his family and the Malfoys in one room, Albus rushes back to the living room to greet his parents. Everyone turns to stare at him expectantly.

“Right, well it’s good news. I talked to Susan and she managed to secure an emergency portkey. Once that’s done, they just need Aunt Hermione to sign off since Astra’s husband is muggle and poses a security risk. Maggie Holmsby from the Muggle Liasion Office managed to talk to her Spanish counterpart and the DMLE. It seems that Astra and her husband Cosmo Fernandez, were able to get to Calle Mandragora in Wizarding Spain without issue and the muggle police in Cordoba have determined that whatever happened with Astra, they haven’t identified her as dangerous. Not to mention, his family has no proof that Astra has done anything wrong. They are both adults and the muggle authorities have determined that this is simply a case of a family that disapproves of their son’s new wife.”

“Thank Merlin! So what now? Will Astra and did you say his name is Cosmo? Bloody hell, what kind of name is that? Are the Spanish allowing them to leave and come here?” Draco paces furiously in the living room, listening to Albus.

“Yes, Susan and I are working on it. The ministry will not allow them to travel until they decide if there is a need to selectively obliviate Cosmo’s parents and possibly the muggle police. The case will be sent for review by the DMLE to determine if Astra will face improper use of magic charges in Spain. We won’t know that today and our goal is to get Astra and Cosmo to the UK without having to wait for that decision. Cosmo may have further immigration issues on the muggle side of things, but we can worry about that later. The good news is Astra and her new husband should be here by dinner.”

Scorpius can’t help himself as he hugs Albus tightly in relief and murmurs a soft thank you against his neck that makes Albus’s cheeks flush with pleasure. For just a moment, Albus squeezes Scorpius back tightly.

“Good work, Al. I’ll get in touch with Hermione and see if there is anything I can do,” Harry says excusing himself.

Draco scoffs but says nothing.

“He has influence and you know it. I think he’d save anybody from having to go through what he did during his improper use of magic hearing. Now, have a biscuit, Draco,” Ginny remarks archly, serving Amelie and herself some ginger snaps.

* * *

As per usual when Scorpius doesn’t know what to do, he cooks. He decides to welcome home his cousin and her mystery man with her favorite meal, carbonara with hand-cut pappardelle and smoked shiitake “bacon” in place of the pancetta (Astra is a vegetarian, after all) plus a salad of baby gem lettuce, fresh herbs and juicy tomatoes with a bright lemon vinaigrette using produce from the verdant garden that Scorpius had started at the manor.

“Right, so do either of you actually cook?” Scorpius asks Albus and Lily who are crowded around the antique kitchen island.

Albus and Lily exchange a look that tells Scorpius all he needs to know.

“How about you slice up the mushrooms?” Scorpius sets out a basket of fresh shiitakes, a cutting board and a chef’s knife in front of Lily.

“Mm, see we never actually learned the spells for this and do you really trust her with a knife that big?” Albus asks, eyeing Lily warily.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a certified potions master and cookery and potions are basically the same thing,” Lily says, dramatically waving around the knife in a way that does nothing to assuage Albus’s fears.

“Right, well I’m going to the greenhouse for tomatoes and herbs. Try not to burn down the manor while I’m gone,” Scorpius says, raising his brows as he takes a set of gloves and some kitchen shears from a drawer.

“We promise to only burn down the kitchen,” Lily calls after him.

As the kitchen door shuts, Lily turns to Albus, “Do you want to help?”

“Any chance you need me to turn on the kettle?” Albus asks, offering up his only kitchen skill.

Lily rolls her eyes, “You might actually be worse than mum in the kitchen.”

“What do you think he’ll be like, Astra’s new _amante_?”

“Tall, dark and handsome by the sounds of it. I think Astra had the right idea running away to elope with a muggle. Wizarding Britain is so bloody incestuous. We should really start looking for men abroad,” Lily replies, sighing with faux ennui, “Then again you have Riordan Vaughn throwing parties just so he can see you again.”

Albus flushes crimson, “In all the excitement today I forgot to tell you, but Vaughn owled me this morning. He wants me to meet him at the Crown Royale later this week.”

“Oh please go, Albus! You already told Noah that you would, and one of us needs to have a proper summer fling.”

“You’re so dramatic. You can’t walk down Diagon Alley without getting stopped for dates. You snogged that Cattermole boy last night.”

“Is it bad that I’ve already forgotten? Seriously it was so deeply uninteresting and entirely too much tongue.” Lily shudders, “Oh and don’t tell James. He hates when I hookup with his teammates.”

The kitchen door opens and Scorpius walks in carrying a basket of plump red tomatoes and freshly picked basil leaves as big as Albus’s hand.

Albus jumps up to help Scorpius set all the ingredients on the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Think you can handle a kitchen task that doesn’t involve fire or sharp blades?” Scorpius asks as he sets the tomatoes in a strainer in the stink.

“If I find a way to screw this up, you only have yourself to blame,” Albus says with a sardonic smile that makes Scorpius’s heart speed up.

Scorpius clears his throat and gets to work weighing out flour for the pasta.

“All done, and look no blood,” Lily says proudly from where she is slicing the mushrooms.

“Very impressive,” Scorpius says as he uses his hands to make a small well in the mound of flour and adds eggs, cracking them deftly with one hand.

Albus watches Scorpius’s practiced hands as he mixes the ingredients into a supple dough. The movements are mesmerizing, his flour-dusted hands strong and purposeful as he kneads, a delicate choreography of vein and muscle, skin and bone. Albus unbuttons the top of his shirt, suddenly feeling quite warm.

He catches Lily’s eye and she bites her lip from making a smart remark as she watches her brother get increasingly flustered.

“Come on Al, let’s go back to the living room so poor Astra and this Cosmo fellow don’t portkey into a room with dad and Draco,” Lily says, washing her hands, “And I suppose we’re not being much help.”

Scorpius nods and flicks his wand at the stove and the water beings boiling rapidly, “Don’t quit your day jobs, Potters.”

Back in the living room, Draco is tapping his toes incessantly, “They should be here by now.”

It’s not long before they hear the front door open and everyone races towards the Mallfoy’s entrance hall.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Draco rushes at his niece, pulling Astra into a bone-crushing hug.

“Ow. It’s fine. We’re here now,” Astra says, comforting her uncle.

Lily hugs Astra and they jump up and down excitedly, Astra showing off the simple gold band on her ring finger.Scorpius also hugs his cousin tightly and pulls Cosmo into a hug that makes him laugh. Cosmo is as tall, dark and handsome as Lily surmised.

Greetings made, Scorpius ushers the assorted Potters and Malfoys into the dining room.

“Oh you have no idea how happy I am to be home,” Astra says gratefully, “And Scorpius you made my favorite meal.”

Trixie apparates into the dining room with a bottle of wine and Cosmo jumps out of his seat, yelping first at the pop, and then again when he spots the large ears and tennis ball-sized eyes of the elf.”

_“Calma, mi amor_ ,” Astra says, squeezing his hand affection, “Um, maybe no apparating around Cosmo yet. I only told him I was a witch two weeks agoand I’m trying to ease him into it.”

“Yes, it is very cool, but it is _muy, muy_ surprising,” Cosmo says in heavily accented English. He smiles brilliantly at Astra and kisses her hand softly.

“What happened, Astra? And when did you find time to elope?” Draco asks. Scorpius can tell his father is attempting to keep his voice level, but his brows are so tightly furrowed, Scorpius is a bit concerned they’ll be stuck that way.

Astra groans running her hands through her chin-length platinum blonde hair, “I was at Cosmo’s flat yesterday and I was working on a manuscript. I was sitting on the terrace and used a summoning charm to grab my field notes from my bag inside. His mother walked in at that moment for a morning cafe con leche with her son and she saw the notes flying through the air and land perfectly in front of me. I was just sitting there with my wand in hand. She started screaming ‘ _magica negra, magica negra_ ’ and a few other Spanish phrases that shouldn’t be repeated. She called the police and it all just got out of hand so quickly.”

“Si, mi mama, she wanted to have Astra arrested,” Cosmo adds, dark eyes wide with concern.

“I knew for Cosmo and I to make it back to England without breaking secrecy laws that it would be easier if we were married. We left the flat immediately and apparated straight to the ministry in Madrid. We were able to get the marriage license yesterday with a promise of extra gold for the registry office. Honestly, we’ve been talking about getting married all summer. We just had to speed it up a bit.

Astra looks at Cosmo again like he invented sunshine and rainbows and leans in to kiss him softly. Despite all rash decision-making, they are clearly smitten with each other.

“Well, why did you owl Scorpius first?” Draco asks, face softening finally.

“I don’t know, don’t read anything into it. It was just the first thing that popped into my head. I just thought Scorpius might be able to reach Lily and see if the Potters could help since they’re related to the minister.”

Astra smiles gratefully at Albus and Harry, “Thank you again by the way. I don’t know when we would have made it home without your help.”

Harry nods, “Of course, though really Albus was the one who made it happen.”

“We will likely have to prepare to meet with the immigration officer, someone from my office and the muggle Liasion office. There is a possibility that you will be called before the Wizengamot, but hopefully it won’t get that far. I’m happy to help with that,” Albus adds. 

“How did you two meet?” Ginny asks.

Cosmo intertwines his fingers with Astra’s and they beam at each other.

“At a beach in Barcelona. I was there for a mini-break after spending the previous two weeks camping all over the countryside,” Astra says.

“I saw her sitting on the sand, under a large sun hat and she looked so beautiful, una angel maravillosa,” adds Cosmo.

“He came up to me and asked my name. I told him it was Astra and he told me his was Cosmo and our names are so ridiculous that it seemed- “

“- written in the stars,” Cosmo finishes.

Harry lets out a sharp bark of laughter, but turns it into a polite cough at Ginny’s glare, though her lips are pulled tight, barely concealing a snicker.

“And now here you are,” Draco says, raising his glass in a toast to the happy couple.

The rest of dinner passes as pleasantly as possible with Draco and Harry making polite, if curt, conversation.

Meanwhile, Scorpius watches his cousin and her new husband. Astra is feeding Cosmo small forkfuls of pasta and Cosmo kisses her lightly on the lips after every bite. It is so sweet, it’s rotting Scorpius’s teeth.

She is as light as he is dark and they are striking together with her silver blonde hair and icy blue eyes and his rich, brown skin and thick, curly black hair. They look at each other as if they can discover the meaning of life in each other’s eyes, the colors of her ocean meeting his earth. Scorpius wonders how love can seem so complicated at times, but also so completely easy. For all Astra has lost in her young life, she doesn’t shy away from love, rather jumping in wholeheartedly, unafraid that love will hurt her.

He looks over at Albus who is also watching them, and as their eyes meet they realize they are both thinking of that summer all those years ago, when love felt as easy, breezy for them too.

* * *

There are a hundred reasons why Albus shouldn’t be here right now, walking into the bar at the Crown Royale hotel, starting with Albus being on the DAER committee and ending with knowing that all Vaughn can offer him is a meaningless summer affair. But these reasons are easy to dismiss when he spots Riordan Vaughn holding court among a cadre of beautiful people.

His high cheekbones and square jaw are even sharper in the warm light and shadows of the glitzy hotel. He is captivating, the group that surrounds him nodding along, smiling and laughing in all the right places. Riordan looks up and spots Albus hovering near the entrance. When they make eye contact everyone turns to see who has captured Riordan Vaughn’s attention. Albus feels himself blush and runs a hand through his thick, black hair hoping the gesture comes as flirtatious rather than nervous.

Riordan makes his way towards him, though not without getting stopped by people shaking his hand and attempting to capture him in conversation. Albus watches him move through to room. He has spent his entire life around wealthy, famous, powerful people and is far from a stranger to the spotlight.

But it is different watching Vaughn. Albus’s parents had always reluctantly acquiesced to peoples’ demands of them, always saying hello and being polite, only exercising their influence when necessary. Whereas Vaughn seems to relish in the attention. He knows his power and isn’t shy about lording it over others. After nearly a decade amongst lawyers and politicians, Albus recognizes his type. The type of person who you would follow in jumping off a bridge all the while making it seem like it was your idea.

Albus feels his heartbeat speed up as Vaughn approaches. He places one hand on his lower back and leans in to kiss him on the cheek in greeting before leading Albus to a table.

“I’m glad you came,” Vaughn says, “But, I knew that you would.”

Albus laughs, “Despite most of my friends and family warning me off.”

“And yet here you are, devastating in all your glory.”

“You are entirely too charming for your own good. Or maybe it’s my own good.”

“You insist on thinking I’m a bad influence.”

“Oh I know you are. For once, I’m just not sure that I mind it.”

Albus leans back, his elbow propped up against the plush, grey velvet of the chair. He tilts his chin down and looks up at Riordan beneath his thick, dark lashes. Albus is vain enough to know that this is a particularly good angle for him, confident and enticing, made for a magazine cover.

“What is it that you want from me?” Albus asks.

“What do you want from me?”

“Oh, very cute.”

“I told you. You devastate me.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“It is the way you do it.”

Albus knows this conversation is going around in circles and amounting to absolutely nothing. And to be honest, he has been lonely and unattached for months and he is enjoying himself and the effect of his youth and good looks, and the way they make a handsome older man say silly things.

“Tell me something I don’t already know about you,” Albus says.

“I’m an only child and my parents died when I was seven. I was raised in Switzerland by my grandfather whose was Minister of Magic.”

“Everybody knows that. It’s in every article written about you.”

“I’m a Chudley Cannons fan.”

“Everyone is since my mum played for them.”

“I’ll have you know it was my father’s team well before Ginny Potter appeared on the scene.And you? The Pearlsteens, for example?”

“I grew up with them. I’ve spent nearly as much time with Noah and Jonah as I have with my own family.”

“Noah is your friend?”

“Yes and married to my cousin. Is that what this is about? You want insider information on the Pearlsteens? Because unless you’re wondering about who turned the Charms classroom floor into a solid block of ice for three days that couldn’t be unfrozen by any of the Hogwarts professors then I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

“And Scorpius Malfoy?”

“Is friends with my sister.”

“And nothing else?”

“Once upon a time. Are you jealous?”

“If I say yes...”

“Then I’d say I’m surprised. Mostly because you seem like the type of person whose always gets what they want.”

“I’m back in London for the exact reason that I didn’t.”

“No, you’re back in London because you caught.”

“Touché.”

“En garde.”

They look at each other. Albus doesn’t know what the older man is thinking behind those amber eyes, but he is just curious enough to keep talking. Riordan’s gaze slowly roams over Albus’s face, lingering on his lips just a second too long.

“Why did you sleep with Guggenheim’s wife and blow up your whole life?” Albus asks, “I mean you moved across Europe and lost your business.”

“As usual, the rumors only hold half-truths. Josef Guggenheim didn’t love Katerina enough to dissolve our company over our affair, that had been a long time coming. But, I suppose I did it because I wanted to.”

“And you always do exactly what you want? Eat ice cream for breakfast and seduce married women?”

“Do you really find those to be equivalent?” Vaughn laughs.

Albus thinks back to his last relationship. The one he ended nearly six months before he moved back to London. An Australian delegate and fellow lawyer. He was a surfer with sandy blond hair, and more muscles rippling along his back than seemed possible.Albus caught him cheating with one of the summer apprentices. He knows now that the relationship wasn’t going to last, that it wasn’t the true love that he knew existed. But it had hurt all the same when it ended.

Riordan notices Albus’s inattention. He reaches forward and softly brushes Albus’s knee.

“What’s wrong?” Riordan asks.

“Just thinking- ,” Albus hesitates. He isn’t sure if he trusts Riordan enough to disclose such personal thoughts, but Riordan seemed like a man who could keep secrets or at least had enough of his own to keep.

“My last relationship ended because he cheated on me. We were together more than year and up until the end he was acting like we had some sort of future together, talking about moving back to London with me and finding a flat. So much bloody talk. By contrast, my sister’s best friend just eloped after a couple of months, madly, stupidly in love. Her husband left behind his family, his country, his whole muggle life to run off with her. Isn’t it strange how love can make people do things you never thought they’d do? And yet sometimes love doesn’t matter at all. Sometimes it’s just- “

“Just what?”

“Well, just sex.”

Riordan takes a sharp breath and crosses then uncrosses his legs. Clearly, whatever he had imagined Albus was going to say, that wasn’t it.

Albus can’t help letting out a small laugh. He didn’t know what to expect spending time with Riordan outside of a crowded ballroom, distractions aplenty. But Riordan is nice enough, smart and much too handsome. He is going to be trouble and as he reaches forward and takes Albus’s hand, Albus decides he doesn’t care.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

Albus follows him to the lift, Riordan’s hand on his lower back as they make room for more people. With each stop, on each floor, he feels himself move a little closer to Riordan and he grows a little more anxious. Up they travel to the rooftop of the hotel. Being summertime, it is crowded with hotel guests enjoying the late sunset and relatively mild English weather.

Riordan grabs his hand again and leads him towards the roof’s edge to take in the view. He steps closely behind him and leans forward.

“Do you see that building there?” Riordan says, pointing to a tall building on the corner of a Knockturn and Diagon Alley with a tall, gothic spire, “It’s my first acquisition under The Vaughn Company. It’s going to be a research company focused on magical environments and watersheds. It’s owned by friends of mine. The bottom floors will be research chambers and the upper floors will be business and operations staff.”

Albus sighs softly. Noah was right, Riordan Vaughn is planning on moving his friends and associates into his buildings.

“Do you have other properties in the works?”

“Indeed,” Riordan says. He describes his plans ranging from the small magical villages in southwest England like Godric’s Hollow and Ottery St. Catchpole to the northern neighborhoods like Hogsmeade. The scope of his plans makes Albus’s head spin.

“Why do you do this? Do you just want to look out and say that you own things?” Albus asks.

“Wizarding London is growing quickly. People are moving here from all over the magical world and people like me, or your friends the Pearlsteens, we get to decide its destiny.”

“So it’s about control?”

“No, it’s about shaping our community. The Diagon Alley expansion is the biggest project, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg. There is room for everyone here in Wizarding Britain and the country is better, stronger for it when people have safe and interesting places to gather and do things that they enjoy, to shop and share skills and knowledge.”

“I’m surprised.”

“By what?”

“You sound like you’re running for minister?”

“I have no altruistic intentions. Wizards and witches and magical creatures of all kinds will pay me handsomely for all this.”

“No, I mean, I guess that I’m surprised that you don’t want a specific kind of community,” Albus says carefully. He only knows Vaughn by reputation after all, one that is shrouded in a bit of darkness that Albus always associates with dark magic.

“I told you that infidelity was only half the story about my split with Josef Guggenheim.”

“It’s impressive. You seemed to have moved rather quickly,” Albus says gesturing vaguely towards the city below them.

“I know enough of the right people,” Riordan says.

But the way Riordan says it, as he reaches a hand forward gently implies that he is done talking business.

Riordan rakes a hand through Albus’s signature black hair, sliding his hand down until his thumb runs across his jawline. Albus’s breath catches, his lips part in anticipation, but when Riordan leans forward he whispers into his ear. Albus nods and with a pop they apparate to Vaughn’s place.


	5. Chapter 5

Albus yawns and stretches before settling down at his desk. It had been a long week of late nights with Riordan, early morning meetings with DAER, days spent on all his normal work duties, long evenings writing and rewriting the elfin representation legislation and on top of all that he was prepping for Astra and Cosmo’s meeting with the improper use of magic office and Cosmo’s immigration to magical Britain. Normally, that sort of case was below Albus’s pay grade, but he’d always liked Astra and he knew that if the situations had been reversed Scorpius would have done the same for Lily.

After corralling the paper crane memos, and sorting his to-do list, he opens the large yellow envelope at the bottom of his inbox. The envelope was completely blank, but Albus didn’t see or feel any signs that its contents could be dangerous.

He quickly discovers that he couldn’t have been more wrong. His jaw drops so far it actually hurts because inside the envelope is a picture of Minister of Magic, one third of the Golden Trio, Order of Merlin, First Class awardee, the beloved Hermione Granger-Weasley and the former Bulgarian national team quidditch player, the world-renowned Viktor Krum hugging tightly outside of a hotel in the capital city of Sofia. The photo is time stamped for 2100 hours and they hug and she smiles and he pressed his nose into her voluminous dark brown waves over and over again in a loop that makes Albus nauseous. The next photo is time stamped for the following day, the “morning after” and Hermione is seen walking in the park with Viktor, the two of them standing close, looking at each other, but no obvious signs of touching. The date on the back of the photo indicates it was two months before the British election, the one his aunt won in a landslide.

Albus remembers the day well. The day before the Granger-Weasleys had completed a photo shoot for Bewitched magazine. Albus remembered seeing the photos when they appeared in the next month’s issue. His aunt Hermione, confident in navy dress robes posing in her home study, his Uncle Ron dressed in denim and a striped jumper, holding their cat Minnie and gazing at her adoringly. His cousin Hugo, the acclaimed historian, leaning against a bookshelf, his revised edition of Hogwarts: A History in hand. His cousin Rose gazing out the window, broomstick in hand, the first female coach on the England National quidditch team’s staff in a century. They looked beautiful, successful, powerful, perfect.

Susan Bones had orchestrated the photo shoot. She had been instrumental in Hermione’s campaign. Albus had been so proud to begin working for Susan in his Aunt Hermione’s administration. And now Albus had a stack of photos that showed Hermione Granger-Weasley just a day after those family photos were taken with an “ex-lover” and gossip rag favorite, Viktor Krum.

“Morning,” Casimir mumbles, making his way to his desk, cup of tea in hand.

Albus ignores him, still in shock.

“Weatherby?” Albus asks doing his best to keep his voice level, “Where did this envelope come from?”

The assistant looks up from where he is updating Susan’s schedule, “Oh I don’t know, I was coming off the lift and a fellow wearing a badge from the Department of Magical Creature Welfare office handed it to me. It had your name on it. Do you need to re-route it or something?”

Albus shakes his head, “No, thank you.”

“Alright, I’m meeting Susan at the Joint European Ministries meeting. We should be back in a couple of hours.”

Albus nods, but doesn’t look up.For once he’s lost for words, not sure what he should say.

“Albus” Casimir says.

“Not now, Casimir.”

“Albus!” Casimir exclaims.

Finally, Albus looks up and it’s then he notices Casimir has his own yellow envelope. He’s holding it, eyes wide.

“What’s in your envelope, Casimir? Does it concern the minister?”

“Yes, and Susan too.”

“Susan? But that’s not possible- ”

Casimir walks towards Albus, “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?”

His tone is attempting to be facetious, but Casimir’s expression is as nervous and jumpy as Albus’s.

Albus nods anxiously, “Fine, fine. Uh, ready?”

He keeps a tight grip on the envelope until he’s sure he has Casimir’s in hand. He quickly snaps up the other envelope and Casimir rolls his eyes as he tugs at Albus’s tight grip.

“You really are an insufferable prick,” Casimir says, eyes narrowed.

“That’ll be the slogan for my ministerial campaign one day,” Albus mutters opening the envelope.

Inside is a memo and if Albus thought photos implying an affair between his aunt and Viktor Krum on the eve of the campaign were bad, this is so much worse.

“Minister of Magic Granger-Weasley and an affair with Viktor Krum,” Casimir whispers, hand over his mouth.

“Minister of Magic Granger-Weasley, Foreign Minister Bones and international election fraud,” Albus whispers back, as if they speak softly then it can’t be true.

They both look up eyes meeting in twin expressions of pure panic.

* * *

“Practically nauseating,” Draco mumbles to Scorpius over a game of wizarding chess. 

On the settee behind Scorpius, Astra is casting a charm to enchant the flowers on the end table to dance in their vase. Cosmo laughs and kisses her as if the charm is the height of magic.

“I caught them going at it on the kitchen counter this morning,” Scorpius says, shaking his head, “I suggest announcing yourself very loudly if you want a cup of tea.”

“They certainly seem happy though,” Draco concedes with a small smile, “Is it my move?”

Scorpius nods. The fact is that both Draco and Scorpius are quite hopeless at chess and so their games are lengthy and involved until one of them stumbles across a checkmate.

_“Piss poor performance!This must be why you were sorted into Hufflepuff, absolutely no strategic Slytherin instincts, Malfoy!” Albus playfully admonished Scorpius all that summer when they managed to emerge from Scorpius’s bedroom, or the gardens, or the swimming pool and finally put on some clothes, ate lunch and played chess. It was always much easier to come by privacy at Malfoy Manor compared to Albus’s childhood home, Iolanthe House, which had any number of Weasley-Potters and assorted farm animals running around at all hours._

“Look, the _Daily Prophet_ says there’s going to be a meteor shower in a few hours. We should go lay out in the conservatory. The ceiling disappears so we can watch the meteor shower, but the floor is charmed so we can lay down on the marble floor but still stay warm,” Astra says to Cosmo, showing him the newspaper’s astronomy forecast.

“This house is amazing,” Cosmo says, eyes wide.

Draco waves his hand dismissively, “It’s a decaying monument to a dangerous ideology and a self-serving family legacy.”

Cosmo looks sheepish for a moment at saying something wrong.

“I take it you haven’t quite explained the family history,” Draco says to Astra, brows raised.

Astra shakes her head, “It’s never been important to me. I knew you would never care if I married a muggle.”

Astra had the benefit of being the daughter of the second son, of a second son. Lucius Malfoy’s much younger brother had run from his family as soon as he was done with Hogwarts and spent the war years far away from his home and the pureblood politics of the day.

“I’m happy if you’re happy,” Draco says sincerely, “though I’d advise against taking Cosmo into the east wing gallery. Some of our ancestors with the permanent sticking charms on their portrait will be less than polite to your new husband.”

“Husband!” Astra squeals happily, falling into Cosmo’s lap, “I don’t think I’ll ever be tired of that word.”

They gaze into each other’s eyes with a look that says they are mere seconds from snogging ferociously again. Scorpius stands and stretches, “Anyone for tea?”

“Do you want help?” Cosmo asks. For an accountant, he had proved to be fairly skilled in the kitchen.

Scorpius sets the kettle to boil and pulls out a ginger cake he’d baked earlier in the day.

“I think we need a chocolate sauce. Can you chop the chocolate? I’ll prep the double boiler.”

Cosmo takes the large block of Honeyduke’s finest dark chocolate and begins cutting into smaller chunks for melting.

“How are you finding things?” Scorpius asks, “Are you doing okay?”

“ _Mas o menos_ , at least I can help with cooking,” the affable man says with a smile. He really is handsome, and is adjusting as well as could be expected.

“Cosmo, can I ask you something?”

“ _Si_ , of course.”

“It’s terribly romantic, you and my cousin. But what makes you so sure it will last? Isn’t it scary to be married and make a lifelong commitment to someone you only met three months ago?”

“I think we had a connection as soon as we met. It was like a _chispa_ , like a spark. Our first date lasted three days. We couldn’t stop or say goodbye. We saw each other as often as we could. Every time we were together, I could see everything, our whole future, our home, our family. Now it’s not just the spark, it’s also that is _mi mejor amiga_ , my best friend. I forget what it was like before I met her, you know?”

Scorpius nods, but really he isn’t sure that he does know. He had friends. He’d had lovers he’d never consider friends. But there was only person he thinks could have ever been both.

“You know in the magical world, we actually have people who can see the future,” Scorpius says with a smile.

“ _Verdad_? Tell me about these people. Can you do it?” Cosmo asks, face full of amazement.

* * *

The memo and the photos are spread out on Albus’s desk. Albus and Casimir had spent the entire day keeping busy and waiting for Susan and Weatherby to leave for the night so they could discuss their next steps.

“Do you think it’s true?” Casimir asks.

“The affair? Not a chance. The memo? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, does it? Someone obviously wants us to believe its true. And that will be enough for most people- to cast doubt and recall the minister,” Albus says, his tone determined and deliberate, “The important thing is that we don’t do anything rash. Someone wanted us to know that they know all of this. And as far as we can tell, they’ve specifically targeted us.”

Casimir and Albus had spent all day doing their best to discretely find out if any other mysterious envelopes had been delivered. The river of ministry gossip was fast moving and full of leaks, but neither Albus nor Casimir had heard a peep all day.

“Someone wants to take down Minister Granger-Weasley and Susan too. But what could their motivation be? They’re both wildly popular,” Casimir says thoughtfully, “Why involve us? What do they think we would do with this information?”

“That’s what doesn’t make sense. Our job is to work for Susan and to protect the minister. Do you think we should just ask Susan about the memo?”

“Do you think you should just ask your aunt if she had an affair with a married international quidditch star?”

“Point taken, but honestly- yes. My aunt wouldn’t lie to me. She wouldn’t, she’s not like that.”

“She wasn’t minister before. You know as well as I do that the job is privy to information beyond our security clearance.”

“Someone is after her, Casimir. I’m not going to get let that happen,” Albus says defiantly.

Casimir rolls his eyes, “For Salazar’s sake, Albus neither am I.”

“I know, I know,” Albus places his palms over his eyes and takes a deep breath, “Okay, let’s go through what we know.”

“Right, well Weatherby said that a fellow, a man, from the Department of Magical Creature Welfare office, the minister’s previous department, handed him these envelopes with our names,” Casimir starts, pacing slowly back and forth across the office.

“Mine had these pictures taken a couple months before the election. Yours had the memo dated for just after she took office,” Albus says, sitting on the desk.

“The photos are speculative at best, just meant to make the minister look bad. But the memo- ,”

“The memo implies that Susan and Minister Granger-Weasley knew that the Romanian ministry of magic was interfering in the Bulgarian ministerial election and that they did nothing. Romania wanted Sergei Dobrev to win and so they helped Dobrev’s supporters stuff the ballot boxes in the northern areas along the border. But why? Dobrev is a narcissistic buffoon. He’s been a terrible minister. And the British ministry hardly cares what is happening in either Romania or Bulgaria. They’re not an important trading partner or national security interest,” Albus says.

Casimir quickly scans through the copies of the JEMM agendas from March when the photos were taken, “Someone wants us to look into this further though. There are too many specific details: times, dates, meeting locations. Maybe the gypsies? That’s the biggest issue along the border, and the only issue the DIMC has been involved in. The British-French-German coalition in the Joint European Ministries of Magic has been battling with the Romanian ministry over human rights violations of the magical Romani populations, regulating against the practice of their native magical techniques in schools and in workplaces,”

“You’re right, but is that really an issue the British ministry wants to involve itself in?” Albus asks, “It’s important, of course, for the Joint European Ministries of Magic, but not for the Brits.”

“Minister Granger-Weasley might think it’s important, though. But no, no,” Casimir says still looking.Albus follows his lead, pulling the notes and the agendas from the open ICW forums.

Several cups of tea later, Albus exclaims, “I got it. This has to be it! The ICW had an open seat that spring. The eligible countries for the extra seat were the UK and Bulgaria. The seats are nominated by the minister for a seven-year rotation and approved by the rest of the ICW.

“So Minister Granger-Weasley nominated the open seat and of course she was approved. There is absolutely no way that the ICW would take Dobrev’s nomination over hers. That has to be why Susan and the minister ignored the intelligence about Romanian interference in the Bulgarian election.”

“Someone knows about this and wants to use it embarrass the minister and cause a scandal. We have to figure out who and why. Any ideas?” Casimir asks.

“One, well two-” Albus says, looking pointedly at Casimir.

“Well what are they?” Casimir asks impatiently.

“The first is we simply confront Susan and the minister, get the minister’s staff working on this, but the more people that know about this-

“The more we risk leaks,” Casimir finishes, “Okay, and the second?”

“Your friend.”

“Who?” Comprehension slowly dawns across Casimir’s face, “No, absolutely not.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were going to bring up Sienna.”

“I didn’t even know her name was Sienna. But you have to admit if she is as successful as you say she might have heard something, from a client,” Albus says, brows raised.

“Can we please reserve that as a last resort?” Casimir’s pained expression says it all.

“Fine, yes you’re right, I’m sorry,” Albus sits back down and sighs. He is absolutely exhausted, he needs a stiff drink or a jump in the ocean.

“Casimir, why did you show me the memo? I mean you didn’t have to, I doubt whoever sent it to you expected us to work together. You could have used it for your own political gain. You could have- ”

Casimir narrows his eyes and shakes his head, “Look, Albus, I’m going to have my career and I’m going to fix as many problems in this country as I can, and I’m going to work hard every fucking day at it. I’m not above playing politics, but I’m not going to blackmail my way to the top.”

Albus looks at him apologetically, “You’re a really decent bloke, Nott.”

“Yes, well you’re still an insufferable prick.”

* * *

Albus apparates outside Malfoy Manor and knocks on the imposing two-story doors. He sighs, closing his eyes and running his hand through his hair, unsettled and anxious after his day at work.

“Albus?” Scorpius asks in greeting, “What are you doing here?”

“Scor? I didn’t expect you to answer the door,” Albus says in surprise.

Scorpius smiles looking down at his trainers. Albus hasn’t called him Scor since they were fifteen, he was the only person who did.

“I’m highly skilled in both cooking and answering the door. If the restaurant doesn’t work out, I can be an oversized house-elf,” Scorpius jokes.

Albus notices that he looks quite fit wearing black track shorts and a soft, long sleeve gray shirt. Honey, Scorpius’s cocker spaniel, is at his heels, wagging her golden tail happily, eager for a pet from their guest.

“Are you okay?” Scorpius asks, noticing Albus’s distracted expression, “Do you want to come in?”

“I actually came by to drop off some notes for Astra and Cosmo’s interview next week. Just some prep on the type of questions to expect from the immigration officer,” Albus says, loosening the collar of his black wool work robes.

“Oh, did they know you were coming? They actually just left for dinner in Diagon Alley. Cosmo is obsessed with the place.”

“Right, no I hadn’t planned on coming by, but I just didn’t want to go home yet. Well, I’ll just leave these then- “ Albus says, pulling a stack of parchment, nearly color-coded and tabbed from his leather satchel bag.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and have a drink?” Scorpius asks. Albus is jumpy in a manner that’s rather unlike the cool, collected diplomat.

“No, that’s okay. You look like you’re busy.”

“I was just about to take Honey out for a jog actually. I suppose I should get going so I can be back before it’s dark,” Scorpius confesses. Honey wiggles excitedly as if to confirm their scheduled plans.

“Oh well. Actually do you mind if I come along? I have a kit in my bag,” Albus replies. He could use an outlet after the day he’s had.

“Sure, yes, please- I’d like that,” Scorpius replies. He sounds nervous, like a fourth year being asked to the Halloween ball.

Albus dashes into the closest bathroom and quickly changes into track shorts, a Puddlemere United jumper and trainers.

The boys set out from the Malfoy’s garden, Honey bounding ahead of them.

“I usually just run a 5k up the path through the woods and back to the garden,” Scorpius says gesturing to the hillside trail that leads to the un-manicured section of the expansive property. They’d spent hours exploring the woods as teenagers, climbing trees in fits of boyish energy talking and decidedly not talking in the shade beneath the trees.

They start running at a leisurely pace up the trail. Scorpius talks about Astra and Cosmo and the couple has enlivened the stodgy, old manor with Cosmo’s wonder at all things magic and their newlywed bliss. Albus tells him about living with James again for the first time since they were teenagers. They name the things they miss about living in Tokyo.

When they have less than a kilometer between them and the garden gate, Scorpius looks at Albus with a cheeky grin “Race you to the end?”

“Let’s go- ,“ but before the words are even out of Albus’s mouth, Scorpius is off, sprinting at a punishing pace. Honey quickly catches up with him, running along proudly with a stick in her mouth.

Albus has no choice, but to chase him down the hill, but there are far worse things. From this angle, Albus has a wonderful view of Scorpius’s muscular calves flexing with each step, his arms moving powerfully at his sides. Even the sweat dripping down the back of his neck is stupidly seductive. He wants to reach out and follow the bead of sweat down into the hollow of his collarbone with his lips. He inwardly cringes at himself, but he can’t help it as he watches Scorpius running full speed, his white blond hair glowing in the last of the setting sun, like an angel outrunning his halo.

They both collapse at the gate. Honey sprawls on the grass, rolling over to scratch her back. Scorpius and Albus lay down too, watching the last of the orange and pink-tinged clouds slipping into the velvety purple and black of night.

“I won,” Scorpius gasps breathlessly, flinging his arms overhead.

“You cheated, some fair and loyal Hufflepuff you are,” Albus teases, his heart rate starting to slow.

“You’re four inches taller than me. I was just making up the unfair advantage.”

Albus turns his had to look at Scorpius lying next to him. He turns too and they look at each, chest rising and falling with their ragged breath. Somehow their fingertips have creeped towards each other until they are touching, but they don’t move away. Withevery ounce of self-control he possesses, Albus tries to root himself to the spot so he can keep from rolling over on top of Scorpius and snogging him silly. He practically wishes for some Devil’s Snare to sprout out of the earth beneath him.

Albus breaks eye contact first and Scorpius sighs, a noise that Albus hopes mirrors his own disappointment.

“Hey, Scorpius?”

“Hey, Albus?”

“When did you decide to become a chef? I don’t remember you ever liking cooking. You grew up with elves, it’s not like you needed to learn.”

“It was my mum’s doing. Not that she was ever much of a cook herself, but she’s the one who took my dad and me to Sushi Tetsu in muggle London. I was obsessed. We spend the rest of that summer trying as many of the Japanese restaurants as we could in London. Two weeks before we went back to school for fifth year my dad surprised us with a trip to Tokyo. It was the last big trip we took before she- she got sick. And then the following year after, well after we- ,I, I spent a lot of time in the kitchens back at school after she died. I didn’t want to be around anyone, anymore. I didn’t know how to be, I just wanted to do something that made sense. It brought me comfort, made me as happy as I thought I could be at that time. I basically worked part-time in the kitchens alongside the Hogwarts elves. By the end of seventh year, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else and afterwards, it seemed like a good excuse to get away from here.”

“You’re brilliant at it. It’s really amazing that you found cooking,” Albus says sincerely, “I’m sure you’ll have restaurants all over the world if you want them, making your mark.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Scorpius says, taking a deep breath and staring up at the stars, “After my mum died, my dad and I, we didn’t know how to talk anymore and we still don’t really, but eating together at least gave us a reason to be in the same room and just try to be a family still; me, him and Astra. I want that, you know. I want to make places that people can come together and celebrate the good things or have a drink and commiserate, eat food that makes them happy. That takes them to new places or reminds them of home.”

“That’s incredible, Scorpius, really. I’m happy for you,” Albus says, smiling at Scorpius, “You know, it’s funny Riordan said sort of the same thing about why he’s a property developer. That he likes building communities, places for people to gather and be together.”

“Are you falling in love with him?”

“Who? Riordan Vaughn? Of course not, Riordan Vaughn is only capable of falling in love with himself,” Albus says, laughing softly, “but it’s nice, uncomplicated.”

Scorpius furrows his brow and shakes his head, “You seem like you’re getting everything you wanted, making a name for yourself in politics, changing the world.”

“It never seems like enough, though. I just- I don’t know. I want to make every wizard or squib, regardless of their blood status or their last name feel like the ministry is here for them. That we’re trying to make their lives better. I want to work with goblins, and trolls, and giants, and centaurs and whatever else is out there to share our magical knowledge and strengthen our communities. Like right now, I’m working on this legislation to preserve a Wizengamot seat for elves. And I want other countries to look at Wizarding Britain and say they know how to do it right.

I know it all sounds like lofty goals, but if you’re not willing to be a little idealistic then nothing changes, right? I really think that I can help make magical Britain a better place. It’s why I spent so many years away, learning from other countries and working on difficult international cases, trying to prove that I have what it takes to help lead our community regardless of my last name. It’s hard, because it seems like you can’t do good things without making some bad choices. But, I really believe that things can change for the better. They already are so much better and getting better everyday with my Aunt Hermione as minister. At the end of the day I just want to be part of it. I just- I want to matter.”

Finally Albus takes a breath. He hadn’t meant to ramble. He looks over at Scorpius, his green eyes earnest, cheeks pink.

Scorpius looks at him again with a soft smile, “You know that’s stupid right.”

“Excuse me?”

“No I mean-, that didn’t come out right. I just mean even if you do all those things, or even if you don’t do any of them, you already matter. Because you’re you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Scorpius has barely seen his father in days, though that’s not entirely unusual. Draco’s position as a freelance antiquities expert for the Bonnaccord auction house suited his tendency to become single-mindedly absorbed into his projects. While the Malfoy fortune remained mostly intact after the second war, he’d sought employment that allowed him to retreat from society. Draco had become even more isolated since Scorpius’s mum Astoria died nearly a decade ago.

So Scorpius does what he does best in response, he cooks. Currently, Scorpius is balancing a tray of roasted tomato soup and a bacon sandwich with homemade brown sauce. He uses his wand to levitate the tray while he knocks on the door of his father’s study, but he hesitates when he hears voices.

“Draco, I’m asking for your help. We build some support behind Guggenheim, get our existing contacts to support him. If we can get him the Diagon Alley project then he will guarantee that our kind will regain what we lost in the wars. We can get Scorpius as many properties as he wants, an entire restaurant empire.”

Scorpius recognizes the voice as belonging to his Uncle Theodore.

“I told you have I have no interest in getting involved in whatever neo-pureblood politics you’re playing at,” Draco replies coldly.

“This isn’t about blood purity, it’s about power. And you know as well as I that our families held power in wizarding Britain for more than five hundred years. We have the opportunity- “

“Theo, do you know why we still speak when I don’t engage with anyone else from our school days? I thought that Scorpius deserved to grow up knowing his family. Our wives were sisters and Casimir is Scorpius’s cousin and that is it, that is the only reason!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Draco! We’re family. It’s about family, about preserving the power- “

“Bloody hell, Theo I don’t care about power! I don’t care about the Sacred Twenty-Eight or any of that bollocks. All I want is for you to leave Scorpius out of this, and if you knew what was good for your family, you would leave Casimir out of it too!”

“I’ve lost everything to these people, to the Weasleys and Potters, to these foreigners like the Pearlsteens who came in while Britain was decimated and bought up our land, took over our businesses, gave them to any creature who’d pay them. I’m not going lose the one opportunity we have to rectify this situation, to restore my family’s name.”

There is a tinge of desperation to Theodore’s voice that Scorpius has never heard before as he pleads with Draco.

“You have no idea how much more you have to lose. You’re going to lose everything, Theo. I hope you have thought about whether it will be worth it.”

There is a shuffle and Scorpius swiftly steps out of the way as the study door clatters open. Scorpius steps back into a dark recess in the corridor. His Uncle Theodore exits and storms off briskly down the hall failing to notice Scorpius.

Scorpius takes a deep breath unsure of the meaning of all that he has overheard. He knocks on the door, “Dad?”

“Scorpius? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the restaurant with four days to opening.”

“I was there all morning. I came home to have a shower and some lunch.”

“No food at the restaurant, then? That’s an auspicious start.”

“Fine, I came home because I haven’t seen you much this week and I rather thought since I haven’t been feeding you that you haven’t been eating.”

Draco waves his hand dismissively, “Trixie brings biscuits with tea.”

Nevertheless, Draco takes the tray gratefully and places it on his desk.

“Was that Uncle Theodore I saw leaving?” Scorpius asks, feigning innocence.

“Hmm, oh yes, well he just stopped by to see if I might be able to help him with restoring a family heirloom.”

His father lies so easily sometimes that Scorpius knows he must have been lied to many times over as a child.

“Really? He seemed upset.”

“I rather think that’s just his facial expression.”

“Dad, is there something going on? Uncle Theodore has seemed a bit off lately.”

Scorpius sits opposite of Draco, trying to make it clear that he has no intention of accepting his father’s evasive answers.

Draco sighs seeing the resoluteness on his son’s face, “Financial troubles, I expect. They’ve been living off the Greengrass fortune for some time. Daphne doesn’t bring in much writing for the Daily Prophet and Theodore frankly needs to get an actual job and stop making dodgy investments.”

“But surely if the Notts need money we could offer- “

“Mm, if only that was all they wanted. It’s not worth worrying about. Your aunt and uncle are just fine and Casimir has his own life now and his own career.”

Draco turns back to his desk, setting the second half of his sandwich aside, “Just be cautious, Scorpius, if suddenly Theo shows interest in your business- if you need help, just remember, I’m here for you.”

Scorpius sighs looking at his father turned away from him, the conversation clearly over, “Okay. I better get back to the restaurant.”

* * *

When Albus arrives home that evening he is pleased to find his brother James, and his godson twelve-year old Auggie playing an enthusiastic game of Exploding Snap.

“Al!” Auggie cries as soon as he’s him. His sky blue hair flashes to black as he runs to Albus for a hug.

“Hey, mate, what are you doing here?” Albus says, setting down his satchel so he can return Auggie’s hug.

“James took me to muggle London, we went to the Natural History Museum. I saw tons of dinosaur bones, Tyrannosaurus rex, and my favorite the stegosaurus and then we went to Honeydukes and bought the biggest bag of pepper imps. Mummy never let’s me eat them. I’ve already eaten half the bag, I hope my ears are steaming for a week. And then we’re going to stay up all night and James is going to tell me the scariest ghost stories he knows,” Auggie says rapidly in a sugar-induced mania.

Albus laughs, “Sounds like we’re going to have a busy night!”

“You’re going to stay too? Oh Merlin, this is going to be so much fun. Can you teach me that hex to tie someone’s shoelaces? If Laird McCowan starts talking trash about Puddlemere United again, I want to jinx him! He’s just sore cause he’s a Wimbourne Wasps fan and James always beats them,” Auggie says, pulling his wand out ready for action.

“You’re not allowed to do magic outside of school and in front of a ministry official, no less,” James says with mock admonishment, “And we should probably have some real food before we have more candy. Pip made aubergine parmigiana.”

The boys wash up for dinner and Albus changes out of his work robes into simple cotton shorts and a slim fitting tee shirt. The late summer weather is warmer than it had been all season.

“I’m surprised you’re here for dinner. I’ve barely seen you in weeks, and only when we’ve gone out with Jonah and Noah,” James says as he and Auggie set the table for dinner.

“This elfin representation legislation has taken a lot of time.”

“And you’ve been seeing Vaughn,” James says. He doesn’t frame it like a question and so Albus doesn’t reply.

“Is he your boyfriend, Albus? Mum says she saw you kissing in Witch Weekly,” Auggie adds helpfully.

“Well aren’t you curious? You’ve been spending too much time with Granny Molly,” Albus says pouring wine for himself and James and a glass of pumpkin juice for Auggie.

“Granny Molly says that you Potters have love lives that are tanglier than a spider’s web. I heard her telling Gimmy,” Auggie says matter-of-factly.

While Harry couldn’t wait to be called Papa by Teddy and Victoire’s children at the ripe old age of forty, Ginny had insisted that she was much too young to be called Nana and so she had tried to coax a barely talking Auggie to call her by her first name. Gimmy was the only name that Auggiecould pronounce and it had sort of stuck by the time Amelie was born four years later.

“You didn’t answer Auggie’s question,” James says pointedly as they begin eating.

“If Vaughn is my boyfriend? This family is nosier than a niffler. You know as well as I do that a few nights out does not a boyfriend make,” Albus replies.

James shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything.

“What is it, then?”

“It’s just- ,” James hesitates, but Albus is looking at him expectantly.

“This isn’t you, Al. You’re not the shag and go type. Merlin knows I am and Lily is on more occasions than I want to admit, but not you. You love being in a relationship,” James says.

“What’s shag and go mean?” Auggie asks, twirling an enormous forkful of pasta.

“Sounds like a question for your dad,” James replies quickly, “But only ask Teddy, not your mum.”

“Al?” James prods Albus again.

“Maybe I’m tired of relationships. I’m too busy for one anyway. Maybe I want to be the one who has some fun and some pleasure without all the heartbreak. You and I both know that that love doesn’t always matter,” Albus replies.

“Lily says you’ve been hanging out with Scorpius since you’ve been back,” James says in a sing-song tone.

“Do you know what your mum would call James, Auggie? _La mouche du coche_.”

Auggie laughs, but James ignores him, “Albus, all I’m saying is that love does matter. It’s the only thing that really matters.”

Suddenly, James seems so much older than his twenty-seven years. Albus can see his face crumple with the grief that he usually keeps locked up tight. James had given everything he had to his first love only to have it all disappear.

It’s the briefest glimpse and then James smiles at Auggie, “I hope you speak with a better French accent than Al. Let me tell you about the time Albus almost got into a fight with a waiter in Cannes after he tried to order the duck. _Le canard ou le connard_.”

* * *

The following evening, Albus isn’t home for dinner and actually he _is_ hanging out with Scorpius. Scorpius has invited Albus, Lily and their friends to a final run-through for his restaurant opening later that week. 

When they arrive at the restaurant Albus is surprised to find that their dinner party is a small group limited to him, Lily, Astra, Cosmo, Noah, Lucy, and Delilah

Scorpius is busily ensconced in the kitchen getting ready for service while a handsome waiter welcomes them into the restaurant and seats them at a white oak table with floating candles overhead. The space is warm and intimate with dove grey velvet and white oak chairs to match the table. The large windows framed in a rich cerulean molding contrast to the white-washed stone walls. The decor is fresh and suits the name of the restaurant Kaiyo, meaning ocean in Japanese.

They sit and drink Japanese plum martinis and make pleasant conversation. Albus is in awe of the place as they talk. He had heard all about the restaurant from Noah and Scorpius for weeks, but the restaurant was an absolute triumph.

Noah, seated next to Albus, lowers his voice and leans in close, “I heard you got put on the Diagon Alley project.”

“Who told you? Lucy?” Albus replies, though truthfully he isn’t too surprised. The committee was bound to have a few leaks. He just hadn’t expected it to be his Uncle Percy.

Noah shakes his head, “She very purposefully didn’t know. Audrey let it slip when we had dinner there last night. She didn’t mean to, but I think she feels a bit left out of conversation at times being the only muggle of the family.”

“You know I would have told you if I could have,” Albus says.

“Al, you’re my best mate. I’m not going to ask you to tell me anything that you shouldn’t. But gossip is the true currency of Wizarding London, be careful with what you tell Vaughn. I’m not sure he won’t use you to his advantage.”

“Truthfully, we don’t do much talking.”

Noah snickers and then is silent for a moment before adding, “I want you to be happy, Albus. As happy as Lucy and me.”

Noah looks fondly over at his wife at the other end of the table and smiles as she tells an animated story about one of her clients.

“I do too. But right now, this feels like it’s the best I can do,” Albus replies with a shrug.

Albus watches Noah watching Lucy. He had never anticipated that Noah would fall in love with his cousin. Lucy and Albus hadn’t been particularly close growing up. But Lucy had driven Percy to his wit’s end that summer after their sixth year. Lucy had gone through a phase of classic teenage rebellion. Sneaking out of the house to smoke cigarettes with muggle boys in Ottery St. Catchpole. Dyeing her naturally copper red hair purple and then black. Wearing skirts short enough to qualify as a belt.

Percy had turned to Ginny and she offered to bring Lucy along with them on their family vacation to Positano. The Potters usually had any number of friends tag along anyway. Lily brought Delilah and Astra, of course, the three of them easily absorbing their older cousin Lucy into their fold, and Noah tagged along with Albus. Noah didn’t know Lucy well. Albus had so many cousins after all and at school they really only ever hung out with Rose and Louis.

The day after they arrived in Positano, they all decided to charter a sailboat for the afternoon. They sailed out into a small cove so they could swim. Lily and her friends had taken turns practicing graceful, elegant dives off the boat’s edge, but when it was Lucy’s turn, she stripped off her denim shorts and in a pale blue bikini she cannonballed into the water. When she resurfaced she had her hands over her bare chest and she was laughing hysterically as she had lost her swim top. And that was it, Noah was in love. By the end of the trip they were inseparable and then five years later they were married.

Noah smiles at Albus, “We think Lucy is pregnant. We’re going to the healer to confirm in a couple of days. What do you say, Al? Are you ready to be a godfather?”

Albus laughs, “I was wondering why she was drinking tea. Sore throat, my arse. I’m not sure the world is ready for a Weasley-Pearlsteen, but I certainly am.”

* * *

In the kitchen, Scorpius moves briskly, not a single plate served without his approval. Buttery, pink Scottish salmon with hijiki rice, juicy langoustines from Cornwall with a bright yuzu sauce, kabocha and welsh onion tempura, the batter light and perfectly golden brown.

Scorpius feels confident in the kitchen, a clear distinction from his everyday life. He knows his purpose, he knows what comes next and all that is expected, the comforting exactness of recipes allow him the freedom to be creative and bold without straying too far out of bounds.

“Oh, pardon me,” Scorpius says absentmindedly as he bumps into Albus whilst coming out of the storage room.

“Sorry, I was looking for the loo,” Albus says stepping back from Scorpius.

“Next door on the left. We’re going to put the signage up in the morning.”

“Right, well, uh, that should help with things,” Albus replies awkwardly.

“What do you think so far? Of the food, I mean.”

“I mean I’m not an expert, but I think it’s amazing, Scor. Really, the place looks fantastic, and the food has been sophisticated, but still very comforting somehow. Like it’s home cooking, maybe not the home I grew up in, but someone’s home,” Albus says sincerely.

“Thank you. I was fishing for compliments, but that was more than I could have hoped for,” Scorpius says with a crooked smile, though internally he’s swelling with pride. There’s a beat of awkward silence as Scorpius tries to think of how he could possibly tell Albus how much it means for him to be at the restaurant tonight.

Finally, Scorpius asks, “Do you remember when you were teaching me to drive?”

Albus laughs, “You were so nervous, I thought I was going to give you a heart attack.”

“I hadn’t been in many cars, the whole machine was so intimidating. You told me to trust myself, that I knew all the little things I had to do. Check my mirrors, press on the gas pedal, signal in anticipation, turn the wheel and the car would follow. You told me I had to trust that I knew how to do all these little things. That at the right moment, I could control what happened. That it would all come together for me.”

He shakes his head softly and smiles at Albus before continuing, “I thought about that when I was deciding if I could really leave my family to go to culinary school. I thought about it when I started working in these insanely busy kitchens all over the world for chefs who are the masters of their craft. I thought about it when I wanted to move home and start my own restaurant. Trust myself and it will come together.”

Scorpius takes a half-step forward so that they are mere inches apart, his heartbeat speeding up with their closeness, “Albus, I‘ve thought about you every day for the past nine years.”

Albus reaches his hand forward, touching Scorpius lightly on the back of the wrist, not quite holding hands. “It was real, wasn’t it? We were so young and it was just a summer, but it was real.”

Scorpius bites his lip, his grey eyes meeting Albus’s emerald green.

From the kitchen, a calamitous crash of breaking plates interrupts them.

“Chef!” A voice calls, full of alarm.

“I should go,” Scorpius says.

Albus steps back, “Yes, right, me too.”

Scorpius walks back towards the pantry door then turns to look at Albus, “It was real.”

* * *

“How was the dinner last night?” Casimir asks the following morning at the office.

“I didn’t know you were invited,” Albus replies.

“I’m his only first cousin, Albus. Anyway, I got caught up here working on Susan’s remarks for the state banquet tomorrow with Pakistan.”

“Well, the restaurant is amazing. The place looked great and the food was delicious. Scorpius is so- ,“ Albus can’t quite keep a flush from rising in his cheeks.

“Alright, okay, yes, I don’t need to hear how you fancy my cousin, especially when you’re still seeing Riordan Vaughn.”

“I don’t fancy Scorpius and how do you- “

“Like a Potter could blow their nose in public without it being in _Witch Weekly_ ,” Casimir says, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, we need to talk,” Casimir says glancing out of the corner of his eye at the department’s assistant Wilson Weatherby.

“Weatherby, Casimir and I are working through lunch. Do you think you could get us some sandwiches from the dining hall?” Albus calls across the office.

“Of course! I’m sure there is lots to do with the vote on elfin representation in just 72 hours. Roast beef, okay?” Weatherby says, jumping up enthusiastically.

“Yes, fine,” Casimir says, then once the door closes, “Does he ever remind you of a Labrador?”

Albus nods, “Well trained, though. We had labs growing up. There is no way that they’d be able to bring you a sandwich without eating it. So, you got anything?”

“Sort of, yes. Process of elimination says that this isn’t an attack by a political opponent. She’s too popular, attacking her this boldly would be political suicide. I think it’s related to all this protesting on magical creature rights. The group calls itself Wizards United, like they’re a bloody cauldron manufacturing union or the world’s dumbest sounding quidditch club.”

Albus scoffs and raises his brows, “Indeed. We’re pretty sure that the minister and Susan didn’t get involved in the Bulgarian election scandal because they wanted to secure the ICW nomination. Two months ago, the Wizengamot confirmed her nomination, Representative Orla Coughlin as the open ICW seat. I pulled Coughlin’s voting record, and obviously it’s what we’d expect. She’s voted in favor of harsher punishment for ministries with magical creatures rights violations and increased protections of squibs that want to remain in magical society. But the Romanian ministry has violated the rights of Romani magical populations again and again, and now they have the Bulgarian minister as their puppet, he’s doing the same. I just find it hard to believe that my aunt- , I mean Minister Granger-Weasley, would knowingly allow that to happen.”

“There’s only so much she can do as the British minister. But she and Susan must have decided to play the international game. It could be someone from Wizards United in protest of the elf legislation. But it could also be someone from the ICW, another conservative seat like Iceland or the Russians,” Casimir replies thoughtfully.

“Whoever sent us the photos and the memo is obviously waiting for us to do something with them. I’d like to be sure of who sent us this, and why, before we go to the minister. But it’s been two days, they won’t wait forever. It’s only a matter of time until this memo ends up on the front page of _The Daily Prophet._ ”

* * *

“As you all know, we are seeking both impartiality and transparency in this process. We don’t want DUMP or the minister to be accused of any political favoritism,” Malandra announces as she begins the last DAER committee meeting.

Albus is grateful his commitment to DAER is coming to an end. The elfin representation bill has been more time-consuming than he had anticipated. He thought surely with his aunt as minister, Wizengamot members would jump at the opportunity to pass legislation on elfin rights.

But just that morning the protesters gathered in the ministry lobby had become violent for the first time. It was nothing that the DMLE patrol officers couldn’t easily handle, but one of the protestors had cast Incarcerous spells at one of the centaur members of the Wizengamot when he had been on his way to the courts. The patrol officers from the DMLE had stepped in with their wands drawn to free the centaur. A couple stunners and disarming spells later the entire scuffle was over. But, still. Albus had been shocked when the lockdown alarm sounded whilst he was meeting with the Department of Magical Creature Welfare.

_“It’s the signs you ignore that matter,” Percy had once told Albus when he had asked what it had been like to work at the ministry during the Second War. “Tiny events buried and dismissed as inconsequential, the acts of a few. It’s the little things that when you look back years later you’ll say, of course, how could we not have known? But we did know.”_

Elves could be the third group after mermaids and centaurs to hold permanent seats. Three votes. He has 72 hours and all he needs is three more votes to pass the elfin representation legislation securing a place for them on the Wizengamot.

“Alright, DAER-ers are we ready to announce our three finalists? Here we go,” Malandra says, shimmying her shoulders as she gathers the three envelopes with the highest-scored bids.

Across the room, Percy exchanges a look with Albus, gray flecked brows raised over the top of his glasses. Malandra Millstone clearly thought she was announcing the winner of some glamorous theatre award rather than a city planning project.

“We have Kapoor Property Investments, Pearlsteen International, and The Vaughn Company.”

The room interrupts into polite applause as Malandra looks at them all expectantly.

“Wonderful, wonderful! As you all know, the finalists now have the opportunity to present at the public session of the Wizengamot next week. The project may be awarded to a single developer or partial projects to all three. But mark my words, everyone in this room has made history today!” Malandra says, concluding the meeting with arms thrown in air.

Albus quickly shuffles out of the meeting and back to his office. Three votes. Seven potential members of the Wizengamot. Getting a permanent seat for elves. Now that would be making history.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Albus asks again, standing near the Peter Pan statue in Hyde Park.

“No, but I think we’re running out of options,” Casimir replies with a shrug. It had been Casimir’s idea to meet in muggle London, away from prying eyes and the photographers that seemed to follow the Potters everywhere.

“Have you told her why I’m here?”

“There really wasn’t time,” Casimir replies. It was just that morning that he decided they needed to talk to Sienna, and he had messaged her to see if she could meet with him on his way into the office. Time was of the essence and he didn’t want to lose his nerve.

“Don’t you think she’s going to be angry with you when she realizes this isn’t a social visit?”

“I didn’t want her to say no. And anyway who has a date at seven in the morning. Merlin, you really are bad at romance, aren’t you Potter?”

Before Albus has the chance to respond, Casimir gestures to a woman in a black silk shirtdress with long, honey blonde hair cascading in soft waves down her shoulders. She’s smiles prettily when she sees Casimir, but stops short when she spots Albus.

“Hi,” Casimir says.

“Hi,” she replies hesitantly.

“Albus, this is Sienna Hancock. Sienna, this is- “

“I know who he is,” Sienna says curtly, “What’s going on Casimir?”

“Someone we know, someone we work for, is in trouble,” Albus steps forward, speaking softly.

Casimir nods and holds his hand up, gesturing to Albus that he’ll take over, “We were hoping that we could see if you had information or if you’ve heard anything about someone trying to take on the minister from one of your clients or one of your friends’ clients.”

“This is quite the second date, Casimir,” Sienna says, her voice tense.

“Look, I’m sorry, I- “

“How dare you? I let you off easy, didn’t I? When you told me about your position at the ministry, I said we shouldn’t see each other again,” she’s indignant now and Albus can’t blame her, “And now you come here and ask me to disclose the one thing that my clients trust me not to?”

Albus steps forward, “It wasn’t his choice, okay? We’ve tried other options. Casimir says you’re good at this job of yours and if that’s the case then I’m sure men- they tell you things.”

“Yes, you’re right. I know a lot of things I shouldn’t. It’s amazing how spineless men become once you’ve sucked them off,” she replies vehemently.

“We can pay you, if that’s what you want,” Albus retorts.

“If I do this for you now, whose to say I won’t do the same when the opposition is in power,” Sienna says, narrowing her eyes at Albus, “Do you really think it’s only your opposition that hires escorts?”

Albus sighs heavily, “Of course not, we’re sorry. This wasn’t Casimir’s idea. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Sienna,” Casimir starts again, “I’m sorry, we wouldn’t be here if we thought- ,”

“If you were sorry, you’d walk away right now and we could pretend this never happened,” Sienna says, shaking her head. She’s silent for a moment as they all avoid looking at one another, “This is about Sofia, right?”

“Who?” Albus asks, brows furrowed.

“Not who- where. This is about the pictures and the meeting in Sofia. In Bulgaria,” she says slowly, still not meeting his their eyes.

Casimir nods, “Yes, it is. We care about the minister and Susan too. Not only are they good people, but we care about what they can do for our country.”

“Save the speeches, Casimir,” Sienna says, rolling her eyes, “I’ll tell you this much. The people who have the Sofia documents, they didn’t just send them to you.”

And with that she storms away.

* * *

“Alright, I think we can get Gupta, Lapinski and Hardwick,” Albus says, circling their names on the enchanted blackboard in the DIMC office.

The names of the Wizengamot members move to the ‘Yay’ column from ‘Undetermined.’ Albus and his colleague Lahiri Castlerock from the Department of Magical Creature Welfare are reviewing the projected voting outcomes for the elfin representation bill. After the disastrous encounter with Sienna earlier that morning, Albus desperately needs a win and the vote is in less than twenty-four hours.

“No, Lapinski is out,” Lahiri says, using her wand to strike through the name, “We met with her assistant yesterday. She has concerns about the house-elf union gathering too much influence and affecting economic growth.”

Albus shakes his head, “That’s hippogriff shite. The house-elf union only represents well- the house elves. It doesn’t represent elves working outside of domestic positions. Even if the minimum wage for every house-elf in the country was doubled that still would only affect maybe four hundred elves. Hogwarts already pays above minimum and they are their largest employer in the country.”

“We’ve shown her the numbers, but Lapinski’s mind can’t be changed. Her seat’s up for re-compete next year. She’s shoring up her base as ‘pro-business’.”

“Fine, we don’t have time to fight with stupid. I still think Gupta and Hardwick are affirmative votes. They just like to let anything that may further the minister’s agenda stew until the last moment as a power trip.”

“Agreed, so that leaves us with?”

“Selwyn, McLaggen, Burke and Blazer. Selwyn and Burke would never,” Albus says.

“I think McLaggen is our man,” Lahiri replies.

“Ugh, that’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear,” Albus shudders, “The man is detestable, always chatting up the papers about how he once dated my Aunt Hermione. That she must have dumped him for my uncle because if they got married then he’d be the minister.”

“It must be nice to live with level of delusion,” Lahiri scoffs, “But, you know I’m right. Whatever may have happened back in school, he likes to feign favorability with the minister and I can’t imagine he has a good reason to be against the bill.”

Albus concedes, “Fine, fine. I’ll take him for a drink tonight and once he feels adequately wooed, he will likely confirm his vote. Actually, you could come along. He’ll like you.”

“You mean cause I have tits,” Lahiri retorts, “I’m sure you’re right, but you better not message me at quarter to eight saying that you’ve been ‘caught up’ and make me go alone.”

“Lahiri, I wouldn’t leave McLaggen alone with a particularly shapely topiary.”

Lahiri laughs as they are interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Albus?”

Albus opens the office door to find Jonah Pearlsteen, Noah’s older brother, dressed in his grey auror robes.

“Jonah, what are you doing here?”

“Do you have a moment?” Jonah says, looking over Albus’s shoulder at Lahiri.

Lahiri nods, “Yes, we’re done here, I think.”

She gathers her wand and papers and tosses her long, black hair over her shoulder, looking pointedly at Albus on her way out the door, “If you don’t show tonight, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to McLaggen.”

“Are you actually threatening a member of the Wizengamot in front of an auror?” Albus asks with a smirk.

Jonah snorts, “You’d be doing me a favor, Castlerock.”

Lahiri waves goodbye as Albus and Jonah step into the office. With his deep-set brown eyes and olive skin, he looks so much like Noah. But his chestnut brown hair is long enough to curl over his ears and he always has the perfect amount of light beard. His chosen accessories of studded dragon hide boots and copious tattoos combine for an edgy look that is vastly different from Noah’s slick, high-society demeanor.

Albus always thought that somehow their generation of Pearlsteens and Potters got it wrong. The oldest siblings were supposed to be the responsible ones, afraid of stepping a toe out of line. Instead, Jonah threw away his family legacy and a sizeable portion of his trust fund leaving Noah to fulfill his role. Perhaps that is why Noah constantly seeks bigger and bigger projects, chasing more and more success, trying to be better than his older brother ever could have been.

Albus is much the same. James had been arrogant and frivolous as a teenager, and even now always chooses to do exactly what he wants whenever he wants, though he is so charming and earnest that no one seems to mind. Professional quidditch was James’s only goal, the only thing he ever deemed worthy of his time and effort. Despite the fact that Albus is a decent flyer, he didn’t bother to try out for the quidditch team back at school, knowing that he could never compete with his older brother’s prowess on the pitch. Albus hated being bad at things, and if he couldn’t do them perfectly then he often felt as though they weren’t worth trying at all.

“Anyone else here?” Jonah asks, sitting opposite of Albus’s desk.

“No, they’re all at the state banquet.”

“Okay, good. Listen, I need to talk to you about Nott.”

“Casimir? I don’t understand. Is he in trouble?”

“Maybe, that’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“What do you want to ask? Do I need a lawyer present?” Albus asks, immediately thinking of Casimir and his ‘friend’.

“You’re a lawyer.”

“I know, but I’m not-, is this about- , Albus takes a deep breath, “Alright, just ask what you want to ask.”

Jonah raises his brows, but ignores Albus’s discomfort, “Is Casimir close with his family?”

“Oh,” Albus hadn’t been expecting that question, “Um, you know we’re not really friends. We don’t talk much about anything outside of work. He sees Scorpius now and then I think. But I honestly think Noah and Scorpius are closer friends.”

“He’s never mentioned his father?”

“Only in passing, but I don’t think they get on. I get the impression that his father thinks he’s wasting his time as a bureaucrat when he could be making more money at a private law firm.”

“Right, well I can empathize with him on that,” Jonah replies, “What do you know about the Notts?”

“Not much. His grandfather was a Death Eater and died recently in Azkaban. I don’t think Casimir attended any sort of funeral, though. Why are you asking me these questions here? It must be related to the DIMC if you’re in my office. There are visitors logs. People will know you’ve been here.”

“It’s an open investigation. I can’t say much. But, yes we’re documenting everything just in case this is a lead that sticks. We think that the Notts have associations with the protestors from Wizards United.”

“No, no that’s not possible. Casimir and I were talking just yesterday about the absolute absurdity of Wizards United,” Albus says, running his hands through his hair, “Even if his father is involved, Casimir wouldn’t be. Like I said, we’re not friends. But, I respect him. He’s good at his job. He believes in helping people. The whole reason he works for the DIMC is because he believes in improving the diversity and growth of our magical community.”

Albus sits back in his chair, thinking of all the work he and Casimir had done the past three months together, and before that back at school. They knew each other. They had spent years competing as they chased similar careers. The Notts were a proud, old guard family, but Casimir hadn’t ever been prejudiced. At least not openly. And if they were involved in Wizards United, why would Casimir imply that that the group was behind the attack on the minister?

Unless, it was a threat of some sort. Casimir had been so quick to point out that the envelopes could have been sent by a member of the ICW. And then he’d asked Albus to go along with him to meet Sienna. He had suggested muggle London, but it could have been a setup. Had there been a photographer? How could Albus have been so naive?

“Listen, Al, this legislation you’re pushing forth- are you ready for the protests at the Wizengamot session?”

“We have patrol officers scheduled for the vote. I think your office increased the amount after yesterday’s attack on Counsellor Theseus. I have a memo about it somewhere,” Albus says, gesturing to his crowded desk.

“Yes, that’s true, but I’d put in a request for more if you think it’s needed. Al, has Casimir seemed angry or secretive in any way?”

“Just the opposite, actually. We’ve had a lot of big projects this summer and we’ve been working quite closely.”

“But you were on the DAER committee, right? Susan passed on Casimir and nominated you.”

“You really have been investigating. Yes, Casimir wanted to be on the DAER committee, but he didn’t seem to hold it against me. No more resentful than usual anyway. He understood. His family- , they were all shunned after the war and it was bad optics for the ministry on a project like the Diagon Alley expansion.”

“It’s more than that. Families like the Notts are angry. They didn’t just lose their family to Azkaban. They lost their businesses, their livelihoods. The Notts owned nearly a third of Diagon Alley before the second war. During Voldemort’s initial reign, the Notts seized businesses owned by muggleborns and so-called blood traitors. They took over their properties and installed pureblood families. It’s one of those things we often overlook during Voldemort’s second rise, but it was also one of the reasons why it was easy for the Death Eaters to gain influence at the ministry by the time the second war was building. I want to be wrong, I really do. But keep your guard up,” Jonah says solemnly.

* * *

Riordan looks up at Albus with a wicked gleam as he wipes the corner his mouth. Albus sighs happily, his whole body relaxing in the afterglow.

After Jonah’s visit and drinks with McLaggen, who had been predictably boorish, but nevertheless favorable to the elfin representation bill, it had been nearly midnight. Albus was buzzing with restless anxiety and he’d been ignoring Riordan for most of the week, too busy for late night shags. Until tonight.

Tonight, a no strings attached romp was exactly what Albus needed. It was nearly midnight when he saw Riordan’s message waiting for him, asking him to come over. Albus had been happy to comply.

Something about their encounters over the past few weeks leaves Albus feeling breathless, but like he is running a race that he can’t win.

Riordan’s hands coax tremors of pleasure from Albus that seem to dissolve the endless river of Albus’s thoughts and anxieties, if only temporarily. Tonight he is especially generous as he is euphoric at the news that The Vaughn Company is a finalist for the Diagon Alley expansion.

The older man slips off the bed first, pulling on his black pajama bottoms, “So do you think you have the votes for the elf bill?”

Albus, searching for his pants, looks up at Riordan surprised, “I think so, but you never know who is making plans and deals at the last minute.”

“Indeed, though I’m sure you’re quite persuasive,” Riordan says, smiling wryly. His silver temples and amber eyes are much too handsome for Albus to think clearly most of the time, though the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiles are especially deadly.

“Will we see your powers of persuasion next week at the Wizengamot public session?” Albus says, taking the glass of firewhiskey that Riordan offers him.

“Yes, though I’m confident you can help my cause,” Riordan replies.

“How do you mean?”

“You know every Wizengamot member, most of them quite well. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of touch after spending so much time on the continent. You can tell me what to expect. You can tell me what I need to know- ”

Albus hears what he doesn’t say. He knows what Riordan needs, to get what he wants. And it’s true. Albus has spent weeks studying the voting records, the strengths and weaknesses, the personal predilections of every Wizengamot member to see where they would stand on his elfin representation bill.

“And if I don’t?” Albus asks. He feels as though he should be suspicious, that Riordan has been leading the conversation to this.

On cue, Riordan walks to his bedside table and uses his wand to rhythmically tap three times. The drawer opens and Riordan hands Albus an envelope.

Albus opens the envelope and finds the pictures inside of his Aunt Hermione and Viktor Krum. But, it’s just the two photographs. No memo. No evidence that Hermione and Susan let Romania elect a blood-purist buffoon in Bulgaria.

But this is the first time that Albus has been on the receiving end of Riordan’s ‘business practices’ and there is no way for him to know if Riordan has the memo too. Or even worse if he’s the one behind it all.

“What is this?” Albus asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? That’s the boring question. The question is what are you going to do about it?”

Riordan places a hand along Albus’s jaw, lifting his chin so their gazes meet, “There’s a saying in politics. I’m sure you have heard it. First, you win and then you do good. People are watching you. Powerful people. People who want to know how far you can go, and to see what you’re willing to do to get there. But none of it matters if you don’t win.”

“So what? Is all this just a game to you? To see if you could turn me into the champion racehorse?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know it’s a game, one you play quite well in fact. But if you want to be minister one day then you need me, or at least people like me.”

“My aunt is minister and she would never- “

“Your aunt is an exceptional witch in every way. She’s one third of the Golden Trio, an Order of Merlin First Class winner, a minister who was elected unopposed. She is a great witch, but you’re not a great wizard, Albus. You’re the son of a great wizard and it’s not the same thing.”

Albus has heard enough, he hastily pulls on his clothes and strides across the room, ready to leave. He should have known that the reason Riordan showed an interest in him was for his own benefit. No- he did know. He just hadn’t expected Riordan to take it this far.

“I thought you were different, I thought you were doing this the fair way, the right way,” Albus says, slipping on his brown leather shoes.

“And who exactly is doing things the right way?” Riordan retorts, “Your friends, the Pearlsteens? Why don’t you ask Noah about that landmark development in New York around the turn of the century?

“That doesn’t have anything to do with Noah,” Albus snaps back.

“No, just his great-great grandfather who built the company that gave Noah everything.”

As Albus opens the door, Riordan steps forward blocking his exit, “Albus, we could accomplish great things together.”

“Goodbye, Riordan,” and with that Albus rushes downstairs and out the door of the London mansion.

* * *

Scorpius and Lily take their seats in the court chambers of the Wizengamot after fighting their way through a crowd of protestors in the lobby and then the press outside the chambers. The crowds were a surprise to Scorpius. Who knew that Wizarding Britain was so politically active? Perhaps it was just Scorpius who never paid much attention to Wizengamot sessions.

Their arrival had been slowed when the press stopped Lily to ask her to pose for photos, dressed in a court side outfit consisting of short navy wool shift dress with layered strands of what she called ‘casual diamonds’ around her neck. The designer of her dress well noted, a reporter from The Daily Prophet then asked Lily what she thought of the protestors to which she had rolled her eyes and offered the sound bite, “Some people need to get hobbies, preferably ones that aren’t so hateful.”

Scorpius knows it’s exactly the sort of flippant comment that Albus would cringe at, but also secretly adore his younger sister for making.

The Chief Counsellor stands at the podium in the center of the chamber and speaks in a firm, commanding tone, “The final piece of legislation for the current session of the Wizengamot is marked 4952.A.7 Permanent Elfin Representation on Wizengamot.This legislation is put forth by the Lead Counsels of the Department of Magical Creature Welfare, Lahiri Castlerock, and the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Albus Potter. The bill makes permanent the current regulation signed by Minister Granger-Weasley upon taking office. In summary, this legislation amends the current membership of the Wizengamot and creates a permanent seat for an elf to be nominated at the recommendation of other Wizengamot members or the minister’s office. If an elf does not want to assume the role of Wizengamot Counsellor, the seat shall remain vacant until re-compete. Have all representatives read the bill or shall we recite in full today? All in favor of skipping the recitation of the legislative text, say aye”

There is a chorus of ayes and then the Chief Counsellor speaks again, “Very well. Will any of the representatives present here today like to speak either in favor of, or against the bill before we vote?”

In turn, Counsellor Selwyn takes the podium and launches into a tirade against magical creature representatives as a slippery slope to ‘voting rights for everything from squibs to pygmy puffs’.

Of course, Selwyn’s points are summarily dismissed by a rousing counter argument from the centaur, Counsellor Theseus, and several others.

Finally, the Chief Counsellor stands again before the podium to call for the vote. Scorpius watches Albus with bated breath as each of the Counsellors uses their wands to tap in their votes, the count tallying on the voting scoreboard displayed overhead of the terraced seating.

The scoreboard ticks upwards. First ten, then twenty and finally the majority of votes are in and the elfin representation legislation is passed, thirty-six to fourteen.

Down below on the Wizengamot floor, Albus can’t help himself from standing and turning to Lahiri in celebration. They hug and rejoice as the chamber bursts into applause, and just a few disgruntled jeers.

Albus turns looking at the room full of Wizengamot counsellors and public attendees proudly. He spots his family, his parents, his brother James, his sister Lily and Scorpius.

Scorpius catches Albus’s eye and beams at him and for just a moment it feels completely natural for Scorpius to be here, cheering on Albus, watching him change the world.

As everyone begins to file out of the chambers, Scorpius and the Potters mill about doing their best to be inconspicuous as Albus and Lahiri answer questions for the press. In reality, they’re not inconspicuous at all, but there is a small team of patrol officers making sure that no one drifts too closely to the Potters.

“It’s good to see you, Scorpius. I didn’t know you were going to be here” Ginny says kindly, though she has a curious gleam in her warm brown eyes.

“You as well, Ginny. Albus has been so supportive of my new restaurant the past couple of months, that I wanted to be here to support him too,” Scorpius replies, eyes cast down as he readjusts his rolled shirtsleeves.

Harry exchanges a look with his wife, “Albus will be glad you were here to witness this.”

Lily slips her arm into the crook of Scorpius’s elbow and smiles at him, “Yes, doesn’t our Albus make the most dashing politician, just so clever and professional.”

James laughs, rolling his eyes, “And the only one with a bit of subtlety between us.”

Albus joins his family and is greeted with hugs and offers of congratulations, but it’s clear from he only has eyes for Scorpius, his gaze soft as he loosens his tie, exposing the hollow of his throat. Scorpius feels himself grow warm and swallows hard just watching him.

“We better get going, we have some meetings on the Diagon Alley expansion this afternoon back at the foundation,” Ginny says.

“Don’t forget, dinner tonight to celebrate,” Harry says, “Scorpius, you must come too if you have the time, though I know your restaurant opens tomorrow. I can’t promise my cooking is anywhere near as good as yours, but it will be edible.”

“I’d love to, thank you,” Scorpius says with a nod.

“We have to go too,” Lily declares, “James is helping me with a very important project in my potions chamber.”

“I am?” James asks, confusion clear on his face. Then he catches Lily’s eye and smiles, “Right, yes, must go. You’re not the only one doing important stuff, Al. I’m even working in my off-season.”

“As subtle as a band of harpies, those Potters,” Albus says once he and Scorpius are alone. The soft smirk on his face and gleaming emerald eyes is enough to send Scorpius’s pulse soaring again.

“James says you’re the only one who can attempt the clandestine,” Scorpius says, his tone teasing.

But something about his words make Albus still and the dark-haired man sighs heavily. When he looks up again, Scorpius can see purple shadows beneath his eyes, noticing for the first time how tired Albus appears.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I- , I still have a lot of work to do. I should get back to the DIMC office. Um, let me walk you out,” Albus says, brows furrowed, his voice tight with stress.

“There’s no need, I can find- “

“At least back to the floos in the lobby,” Albus says, “Please I insist.”

Scorpius nods and they walk through the corridors to the lift and back to the lobby, “Are you sure that you’re alright?”

Albus nods and smiles at Scorpius in a way that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “Yes, well, I will be.”

He looks down and shakes his head. This time when he looks up, his gaze is soft and happy again. He reaches forward to take Scorpius’s hand, “Scor, thank you for coming. It really means a lot and- “

“There’s Potter!” Someone shouts across the lobby.

In a rush of movement, Albus and Scorpius suddenly find themselves surrounded by a crowd that must be protestors as the shouts come rapidly.

“Power to magical creatures is stealing from Wizards!”

“No wands, no rights!”

“Magic is might!”

Albus reaches for his wand to throw up a shield to keep the crowd from getting too close, but it’s too late, a strong disarming spell catches his shoulder and his wand flies from his grasp.

“Albus!” Scorpius yells as Albus falls back against cold marble floor.

Patrol officers from the DMLE run towards the protestors, their wands streaming forth curses and spells in red, blue and yellow light.

Scorpius runs towards Albus, wand held aloft. A hex hits the backs of his legs causing his knees to buckle. Scorpius shoots his arms out to break his fall, but he feels another sharp, blazing hot sting as a hex catches him at the base of the neck and he falls, Albus’s horrified expression the last thing that he sees before his head hits the ground and the darkness takes over.


	8. Chapter 8

Scorpius blinks slowly, but the light is too bright and his eyelids are too heavy to keep open and holy hippogriffs, he’s fairly certain he’s been stepped on by a giant because his head. _It hurts._

Somewhere in the room someone is saying his name, but they sound far away or maybe they’re just underwater?

“Mr. Malfoy, can you hear me?”

He tries to nod his head because his throat feels like he’s swallowed sand, except that also turns out to be a big a mistake. Now he’s been stepped on by a giant and possibly spun around like a gnome in the Weasley’s garden. He’s not sure that metaphor made sense, but thinking is a tad more difficult than usual.

“Mr. Malfoy, don’t move. My name is Healer Davies, I’m going to sit you up in the bed, okay?”

Scorpius feels himself being lifted underneath his armpits and then an arm comes around his back to settle him against the pillows.

“Drink this slowly. It’s a pain potion to help the headache.”

He takes the small vial from the healer and drinks the pain potion. As the pain finally starts to dissipate, he looks around the room and realizes he’s in St. Mungo’s with absolutely no recollection of how he got there and why.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Draco says coming to his son’s side.

There is a dull ache in the back of his head, but Scorpius feels plenty well enough to smile softly at his father.

“I’m okay, Dad. I’m just fine,” Scorpius says.

Healer Davies steps forward again, “Mr. Malfoy, do you know why you’re here?”

“I hit my head?” He replies unsurely because that seems like the obvious answer, “No, I don’t. The last thing that I remember was being at the Wizengamot to watch Albus’s elf bill vote thing.”

“Scor, do you remember what happened after the vote?” Albus says, coming to the side of the bed next to Draco.

“You’re here,” Scorpius replies. He reaches forward, but Healer Davies presses his shoulder back gently.

“Of course I am,” Albus’s voice is shaky, his green eyes wide with worry, “This wouldn’t even have happened if you left with Lily. I should have, I don’t know, I could have- “

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Scorpius says, then he turns to the healer, “I am okay, right?”

Healer Davies nods, “Yes, you’re okay. You have a concussion after being hit with a stinging hex in the back of the neck. That is why you are experiencing some memory loss. You are going to have to take it easy for a week or so, but we don’t expect that there will be any long term effects. You’ll likely have some nausea over the first few days and we’re going to make sure that you aren’t left alone just in case you have other symptoms, but you should be able to go home in a few hours.”

Healer Davies performs a few tests, checking Scorpius’s reflexes and using a small instrument to check his vision. After he leaves promising a mediwitch will come by with discharge notes, Scorpius asks Albus to tell him what happened.

“Scorpius, yesterday after the vote we were walking in the ministry lobby and the protestors attacked us. I got knocked back against the wall with a disarming spell and you were trying to help me up when you were hexed,” Albus says, his voice heavy with emotion, “It happened so fast and you fell hard. The patrol officers came quickly and stopped the protestors. They arrested everyone, but this is all my fault, Scor. This is all my bloody fault. Jonah told me that I should have requested increased security and I was so busy with prepping for the vote and dealing with other work stuff I just didn’t. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Bloody hell, Al, you have a bruise on your shoulder that’s bigger than your face. Stop being such a martyr,” Lily says, walking into the room with Astra and Cosmo.

“No one blames you, Albus. Frankly everyone of those protestors deserves to be stuck in a cage fight with a Hungarian Horntail, anti-apparition charms on the cage of course,” Astra adds, smiling and handing Albus a paper cup of tea. Despite her appearance as tiny blonde fairy who slept tucked up in a rosebud, Astra always did scare Scorpius just a little bit.

“Still, I’m- “ Albus starts. He looks guiltily over at Draco, who is stonily silent.

“No, no they’re right,” Scorpius says, looking between Albus and his father, “It wasn’t your fault, you can’t prevent people from acting like lunatics. If everyone behaved themselves you’d probably be out of a job.”

Albus reaches forward places his hand on the back of Scorpius’s, “Look at you, comforting me while you’re in hospital.”

Albus looks like he wants to say more, his lips parted and his eyes soft and apologetic, but the small hospital room is crowded and neither Scorpius nor Albus have the words to say what they really want to say. So Scorpius simply turns his hand over and squeezes Albus’s gently.

Scorpius takes a deep breath, trying to process everything he’s heard, “Wait, you said the vote was yesterday. I’ve been out for an entire day? But that means- the restaurant opening is tonight,” he looks at Albus, “Oh and we missed dinner with your parents.”

Albus smiles at Scorpius, “Oh Scor, that is the exact wrong thing to be worrying about now. But yes, the restaurant- we weren’t sure what you wanted to do. I had Noah let your kitchen staff know that the opening is likely postponed.”

“Yes, right. Okay, yes I guess I don’t have a choice. I should probably talk to Noah and the staff.”

“Yes, but not now. You’re to keep your stress levels low, which means no work. Trixie is prepping one of the rooms downstairs for you and as soon as you get your discharge papers, Albus is going to drive us home. Healer Davies says you shouldn’t apparate or floo with a concussion,” Draco announces to the group.

* * *

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have Cosmo drive?” Astra suggests one last time as Albus and Draco get Scorpius seated in the back of Albus’s car. Draco and Lily get in the car as well, Draco sitting shotgun.

“If Cosmo gets stopped for a traffic violation between here and Wiltshire without identification of any kind that could be problematic. And before anyone suggests it, I cannot in good conscience obliviate any coppers,” Albus says, as he gets himself situated in the front of his Mini Cooper, the color British racing green, of course.

“Right, no, I know. But you said you haven’t driven much lately,” Astra replies.

“What’s that muggle phrase ‘it’s like riding a bike’,” Albus replies as he adjusts his mirrors.

Lily scoffs, “When was the last time you rode a bike?”

Albus ignores her and fastens his seatbelt. Albus loves to drive, he’d asked his father Harry to teach him as soon as he could get his provisional driver’s permit the Christmas after he turned fifteen. He loves to roll the windows down, turn on music that Lily affectionately describes as ‘sad boy roams the moors with a guitar’ and drive around the countryside near his family home in Godric’s Hollow. He doesn’t have the opportunity to drive much now that he is living with James in Chelsea and while he wishes the circumstances are better, he is excited to get behind the wheel.

He adjusts his mirrors and turns out onto the busy London road. As he stops at the first traffic light, there is a metallic squeak of the brakes.

“What was that?” Draco asks nervously.

“Could be the carburetor,” Lily offers from the backseat.

“She has no idea. It’s just the brakes groaning because I haven’t driven the car in a while,” Albus replies, spotting Draco’s alarmed expression.

The brakes grind again at the traffic light and Draco looks down at his feet like the floor is on fire.

“Might be the alternator,” Lily says, leaning forward in between Draco and Albus. The car is small enough that she can poke her head right between their forearms. Albus resists the urge to gently nudge back her nose with his elbow.

“Lily, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scorpius confirms, his face covered in oversized, gold framed sunglasses that Lily had dug out from the bottom of her handbag. Albus smiles at him in his rear view mirror, he looks like a muggle movie star on holiday in the South of France.

“Excuse me, but I’ll have you both know I dated a muggle auto mechanic for three very fun, very flirty, and slightly greasy months and I learned a lot. And honestly, what I’m really gathering from this situation is that this backseat is way too small to have any real fun. Although, Al how far does your seat recline, because you could probably make that work.”

Albus rolls his eyes at his younger sister, “Don’t worry about it, Lily, I’m never, quite literally ever, going to let you borrow my car.”

Draco turns back to check on Scorpius and then resigns himself to leaning against the passenger side door to pass the journey in silence while Albus and Lily bicker over her dating life, catch up on work gossip, talk about the endless comings and goings of the extended Weasley family and generally make Draco wonder how exactly he ended up in a muggle car with two of Harry Potter’s extraordinarily well-intentioned, but endlessly bothersome children.

* * *

Once they arrive at the manor, Draco, Albus and Cosmo get Scorpius into bed and Lily and Astra hover and offer helpful comments like, ‘mind the door’ and ‘perhaps one more pillow’. Adequately fussed over, Scorpius falls asleep while the others convene in the living room to work out a schedule for Scorpius’ care during the week he is to remain on bedrest. 

“Evening post, sir,” Trixie says, carrying in a small stack of letters.

“Astra, here from the ministry,” Draco says, handing her a thick white envelope.

“Oh, bloody finally! It’s the letter offering Cosmo and I permanent UK residency! The ministry has worked it out with the Home Office as well. We are officially no longer potential fugitives,” Astra says, throwing her arms around Cosmo’s neck. He kisses her, twirling her around in a circle.

Lily hugs Astra and Cosmo tightly and then claps her hands together excitedly, her rings clinking together, “Brilliant idea! You must let me throw you both a proper wedding party. How’s next week? Before Scorpius opens the restaurant. We could do a lovely English garden party theme to celebrate Cosmo’s new homeland, or perhaps a sort of celestial theme for your names. That could be quite pretty with some ‘star’ candles suspended in air and we could have your table placecards named after constellations.”

Astra eyes light up, “Uncle Draco, what do you think? Could we have it here at the manor?”

Draco has a pained expression on his face as though he’s certainly had enough of the Potters coming in and telling him how to do things in his own home. Clearly his attempt to take control of Scorpius’s care had been usurped and now he is agreeing to host a wedding in just days. But he looks at the newlyweds, fingers tightly intertwined, expressions hopeful, and he finds himself nodding.

Lily beams at Draco and claps again, “Fab! Okay, we have so much to do. I’m thinking romance, lush, sparkle. Not a lot of time to get things arranged, but this locale is perfect because the manor is so dark it’s practically always nightime in here. Let’s go see about dusting off some of those old, antique-y things you love so much for centerpieces. And I need to contact my florist and definitely my stylist for Astra to try on dresses. We don’t need to talk budget first, do we?”

Lily hooks one arm in Draco’s elbow and the other in Astra’s. He looks at her suspiciously, but Lily is as always so incredibly charming in the way she flirtatiously bosses everyone around that Albus is certain that is only a matter of time until she has Draco Malfoy doing her bidding. 

* * *

Albus clicks his tongue as he reviews the morning briefing from the DIMC, making notes in the margins, “Request for British assistance on grindiva virus outbreak in the Caribbean. That’s new.”

“You still do that thing, then,” Scorpius says, opening his eyes as he hears Albus’s voice.

Albus looks up. Scorpius’s hair is mussed from sleep, blond strands glowing in the afternoon light. The late summer warmth, the color in his cheeks coming back after days of recovery. He’s peaches and cream and Albus wants to sink into his soft sweetness.

Instead he asks, “What thing?”

“Talking to yourself when you read,” Scorpius says with a small smile.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, but even if you did I’m positively tired of sleeping.”

“Is that possible?”

Scorpius shrugs, “What time is it?”

“Half past three.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just got here a bit ago. Casimir was nice enough to take some of my meetings this afternoon, though he said he might drop by later.”

“And my dad?” Scorpius asks, surprised his father isn’t hovering as he had done the past two days since Scorpius left St. Mungo’s.

“He’s out taking Honey for a walk.”

“Good, that’s good of him to get some fresh air. No reason for you all to be shut in with me this week.”

“Do you want a walk? We should probably stay inside since it’s surprisingly sunny out today and the healer said to stay away from bright light, but we could always walk in the corridor.”

“Sure, sure,” Scorpius says swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Albus immediately rushes over to help him up.

“I can stand, I promise.” Though once fully upright, Scorpius feels a massive bout of vertigo and sways slightly.

Albus quickly catches Scorpius under the armpits, “Would you stop being so stubborn, please?”

“Well, only because you said please.”

Albus makes a face at Scorpius and steadies Scorpius on his feet.

“Thanks for being here, Albus.”

“Of course, I mean I’m sorry I can’t be here more. I still feel badly about all this. I’m so sorry this happened. And right before your restaurant opening too. I feel horrible that you’ve had to delay.”

“It’s only a couple weeks and I’m just glad that my primary investor is Noah. It takes some of the pressure off to be a success right away.”

“You will though, be a success, I mean. It’s going to be incredible.”

“Thanks, I hope so. It stills seems like a dream sometimes. Are Astra and Cosmo wedding planning again?”

“Yes, Lily has christened herself wedding captain and says it’s ‘all hands on deck’. Merlin knows where she learned nautical terms.”

They walk further down the corridor and incidentally into a small parlor room, the soft pink walls covered in lush landscape paintings mostly painted by Scorpius’s late mum, Astoria. 

In the corner of the room is a grand piano, the glossy black shining in the late afternoon sun. Albus feels himself flush as he remembers the last time he and Scorpius were in this room.

_Watching Scorpius’s fingers slide over the ivory keys of the piano, the curve of his graceful neck as the melody plays on makes Albus’s chest swell with emotion. He’s so beautiful and it’s just too much that he can also make beautiful music come to life with each movement of those hands that Albus has spent the summer getting to know all too well. Albus sits on the piano bench next to Scorpius, close enough for their narrow hips to touch. They’re too lanky after a summer spent outgrowing their jeans and trainers. Albus is certain he knows Scorpius’s body as well as his own. The freckle above his left knee, the soft porcelain skin of his inner thigh, the spot beneath his jaw that can elicit a whole body shiver, the curve of his lip beneath his tongue. Albus lays his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and sighs watching Scorpius play. Scorpius nudges his side gently with elbows, “You’re in my way, Al.”_

_“Guess you’ll have to learn to play around me.”_

_“Typical, thinking the world revolves around you.”_

_“Well, yours should at least, don’t you think?” Albus teases._

_“Mm, right now it revolves around my piano.”_

_Albus slips a hand between Scorpius thighs, inching up the hem of his khaki shorts, “I think I can find a way to remedy that.”_

_Albus slides down to his knees beneath the bench and the piano and slowly pulls the zipper down the front of his shorts. Albus touches him, slow ministrations over the soft, warm skin. Scorpius continues to play on, awkward as it is his arms reaching over the top of Albus’s head. But then Albus’s lips slide over him and it’s a cacophony of wrong notes as Scorpius moans at the sensation._

_Afterwards, Scorpius lays on his back across the piano bench, his too long limbs hanging over the edge. Albus is still kneeling on the floor, his head on Scorpius’s stomach._

_Scorpius hasn’t been keeping count of the many, many times they’ve ended up just like this over the summer. Well, the piano parlor is a first, but the rest of it is more or less the same. Less awkward and bumbling now in August than it had been in June, now that they had figured out the mechanics of it all. And he curses at the way he craves Albus’s touch, his tongue, his everything. It can’t be normal the way they are always a hair’s breadth from needing each other. It must be that Scorpius has just turned sixteen and his body rages with hormones out of his control. Except, it’s only ever Albus that he wants when he’s alone, only ever Albus in his dreams and in the shower, only ever Albus at night when he can’t sleep. Only ever Albus._

_As their breathing returns to normal, Albus traces small circles across his stomach that cause Scorpius, tickling and sensitive to laugh softly. Albus takes a deep, slow breath, the air ghosting over Scorpius’s skin._

_“I can’t believe we go back to school next week,” Albus murmurs as Scorpius reaches down and runs his hands through his thick, black hair._

_“I know, this might be the best summer of my life.”_

_“Might be?”_

_“That wasn’t a personal challenge, Al. You’re so bloody competitive.”_

_“You like that about me, don’t you?”_

_“I like a lot of things about you.”_

_“That didn’t answer the question.”_

_“I know.”_

_Albus grabs Scorpius by the waist and pulls him down, their bodies splayed on the floor and Scorpius laying on top of him._

_“Ouch, that hurt,” Scorpius says, shaking his arm out after his elbow crashed into floorboards_

_“It did,” Albus concedes, “Sorry, it was more romantic in my mind.”_

_Scorpius places small kisses along Albus’s hairline, “It’s the thought that counts.”_

_They’re so close that Albus is going cross-eyed trying to look at Scorpius, but this is important. He needs to look at Scorpius as he says, “I love you.”_

_Scorpius smiles at him brightly, “Of course you do, you sod. I love you too.”_

_They stare at each other with matching lopsided grins, only looking up when there is a soft knock on the door._

_“Scorpius, your parents are back from St. Mungo’s,” says the squeaky voice of the Malfoy’s house-elf, her tiny face peeking around the doorframe, doing her best to avoid looking at the boys._

_“Right, yes, be right there,” Scorpius says, scrambling to stand and quickly dressing. Albus says goodbye, dressing so he can floo home._

_Scorpius stands at the room’s threshold, he looks back and smiles at Albus. He mouths silently, ‘I love you’._

_Albus sighs happily, his heart fit to burst out of his chest with sheer, overwhelming in it’s fullness kind of love. He has no idea that that’s the last time they’ll speak for nine years._

* * *

Next to him, Scorpius shifts uncomfortably, the room’s memories like a weight on his shoulders.

Finally, Albus sighs and leads Scorpius into the parlor. They sit on a chinoiserie silk settee and now it’s Albus’s turn to fidget, wringing his hands. All the Malfoy’s furniture is quite stodgy, like Albus is taking tea at Pemberley, or worse Rosings Park.

They’re quiet for a moment until Albus finally works up the courage to ask, “What happened that summer, Scorpius?”

Scorpius shakes his head, smiling sadly, “Are we finally doing this? No rude interruptions from work or family?”

“No guarantees on my family, but I think we owe it to each other, don’t we?”

“Albus- ,” Scorpius sighs, exhaling in anticipation.

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” Albus’s tone is desperate, “Why you ignored my letters and calls. Why you never came over any more with Astra. Why you never even spoke to me back at school.”

“Al, it’s just that- ,” Scorpius rubs his hands over his face, “Oh Merlin, I don’t even know where to start. I’m not like you, okay. I never say the right thing and I know I cocked it all up back then and I’ll probably do it again. I’ve been practicing this conversation for nine years, and now I can’t find any of the words.”

“Please, Scor, please just tell me. It was so long ago, but can we really even be friends now if we never talk about it?”

“Are we friends? Is that what this is?”

Albus doesn’t answer, he just looks at Scorpius, his emerald eyes full of expectation that Scorpius isn’t sure how to fulfill.

“Do you remember that day, here in this room?”

Albus sighs, of course he does. It’s only every other memory, it’s only a singular moment of joy and love that he compares all others to, even without realizing.

“When my parents came home, they told me and Astra that my mum’s treatments stopped working. We didn’t know how much time she had left, but she was dying,” his voice breaks as the breath catches in his throat, “She died two weeks after the start of term.”

Albus takes Scorpius hands in his and squeezes them tightly, “I remember Lily telling me when Draco came to Hogwarts to tell you and Astra.”

“Albus, I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry, I- I don’t know how to explain it, but my mum had been sick for years at that point and I guess I was, oh this sounds horrid, but used to it somehow. But when she came home that day, I just conflated her dying with you and me, and the two of us falling in love. And I felt so fucking guilty that I was so happy, happier than I ever thought possible and I was losing my mum. How could I do that? How could it be that I was spending all my time with you and she was- “

He’s breathing fast now, rapid, short movements from his chest and Albus comes to him, his hands on his shoulders, steadying him.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. We didn’t- “ Albus can’t finish. Truthfully, he feels stricken. How could Scorpius even look at him now, if all Albus did was remind him of the summer his mum died?

“Astra had just lost her parents a few years before and now she was losing her second mum. My dad- he fell apart. I knew he would, but it was even worse than expected. Trixie wrote saying he barely got out of bed for months and I- , I needed you. I know that now, but at the time I felt like I couldn’t have any happiness. Like I didn’t deserve it.”

“I hope you know that’s not true. I hope you know that all I wanted was to be there for you,” Albus replies.

“I know. I know that now,” Scorpius rests his forehead on Albus’s shoulder, his eyes downcast.

Albus wraps his arms around Scorpius, and they sit in the parlor, they’re there for each other even if it feels like its nine years too late.

* * *

“Come in,” Scorpius says at the knock on his door. The following day he’s still in bed, but at least Albus and the others have agreed to let him review the order for next week’s produce shipment at the restaurant. 

Albus meanwhile is sitting nearby composing remarks for Susan’s speech at the JEMM conference in Berlin, or trying to anyway. He keeps writing the same sentence over and over again, between sneaking peeks at Scorpius reclined in bed looking all clever and bossy doing restaurant things. His wire-rimmed reading glasses, biting at his bottom lip, his pencil tucked behind his ear. Albus has never found himself quite so envious of a writing instrument. Watching Scorpius cook, he’s discovered, is more than Albus can physically handle, but watching Scorpius be all ‘chef-y’ even without the kitchen is sort of wonderful too. After their conversation the previous day, their quiet afternoon is full of contentment, the closure they needed, perhaps to be friends.

Casimir walks into the room, “Scorpius, looking good, healthy. Or as healthy as you can when your natural complexion is somewhere between ghost and porcelain.”

“Thanks, I think,” Scorpius replies.

“Now I know you’re my cousin and I’m sorry about those Wizards United pricks, but believe it or not I came to see Potter.”

“Thanks again, I think.”

“That’s starting to sound rather insincere. But that’s the problem with Potter.When he’s around you’re not even the most popular person in your own house.”

Albus scoffs, “You’re looking a bit green about the gills there, Nott. Jealous, are we?”

Casimir rolls his eyes and jerks his head towards the corridor.

“I should have the speech ready for reviews in a couple of hours,” Albus says, following him out of Scorpius’s room.

“And I’ll make my revisions in red ink as always, but that’s not why I’m here,” Casimir says, reaching into his satchel.

“I’m getting quite tired of large, yellow envelopes,” Albus says. Casimir huffs in agreements.

As Albus reads through the document, in the back of his mind, he’s thinks of his last conversation with Jonah, about having to be careful with Casimir, his allegiances unknown.

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

Albus nods slowly, “It’s time for Minister Granger-Weasley to go public on the Sofia Papers.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super quick warning that there is a bit of mild smut in this chapter but it’s nothing too graphic. Please let me know if you think the rating should be higher. 
> 
> Also, if you want to correct any of my wording about Romani populations please let me know and call me out! I’m happy to make changes.

* * *

“Do you have an appointment with the minister?” the secretary asks Albus. It’s barely seven in the morning when Albus arrives at the minister’s office.

“No, but it’s an urgent matter,” Albus replies patiently.

“Everyone thinks so, don’t they?” The man says, bushy gray brows raised skeptically.

“We really do not have time for this. I said urgent and I meant it,” Albus says, more insistently now.

“Is this a personal matter, Mr. Potter?”

“No, of course not! If I needed to ask the minister about family dinner plans, I wouldn’t say it was urgent.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man. I can assure you that your barometer for urgent and that of the minister’s office are entirely different.”

The minister strides in then, followed closely by a team of assistants, her Senior Advisor and her auror guard.

“Albus, how are you? Are you here to see me?” Minister Granger-Weasley asks upon noticing her nephew in the anteroom of her office.

“If that’s alright.”

She checks her watch brusquely, “I have ten minutes.”

Albus nods, “Okay, then.”

She looks at him curiously, Albus’s tone solemn and serious, rather than the brash confidence that he usually has in the workplace.

“Are you well?” asks Hermione, as she sits at her large mahogany desk.

“Yes, mostly. I’m afraid this is about you.”

“Well, then, let’s talk. Am I acting as your aunt or am I your minister?” She asks, her hands clasped together on her desktop. With the sheer number of relatives she worked with at the ministry, she often felt it useful to make this distinction.

“This somehow falls into the category both,” Albus replies hesitantly.

“Right, well let me remind you that as your aunt I’m going to be as honest with you as I can be, but as your minister, there may be things that I can’t fully disclose.”

Albus nods, he pulls the envelopes, all three, from his satchel, “These were sent to Casimir Nott and me. There are photos, a memo and a draft article from The Daily Prophet.”

Hermione opens the envelopes, reviewing each of their contents in turn, inhaling sharply.

She furrows her brow and rubs at her temples. She looks thinner, Albus thinks, her cheekbones sharper beneath her light brown skin, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes more pronounced. She’s been minister for six months, but it’s clear the stress of the role is beginning to take its toll.

“Talk me through what I’m looking at, Albus.”

“The first two envelopes were sent to Casimir and I on the same day, the photos to me and the memo to Casimir.”

“And you’ve been holding on to them for how long?”

“About a month.”

“Good Godric, why?”

“We wanted to do a bit of an investigation first. Casimir and I were trying to figure out where the envelopes were coming from, who sent them and also why of course.

“You should have brought this to me right away,” Hermione says seriously, “But, well, any leads?”

“A few, though nothing conclusive which is obviously worrisome. Casimir thinks it is the Wizards United group that’s behind this. I think it has something to do with the Diagon Alley expansion. Riordan Vaughn had the photos. I don’t know if they came from him or if they were sent to him.”

“But he showed them to you?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“Attempted blackmail, I suppose.”

“Your first brush with it?”

“Yes”

“Welcome to senior staff”

“Uh, thanks, I think”

“Does Susan know?”

“Yes. Casimir is informing her now.”

“Quite the team you and Nott make.”

Albus makes a noncommittal noise.

“Alright, so let’s get a few things sorted. I was in Sofia for one weekend two months before the election. Viktor Krum’s father had just died. I mentioned to him that I was going to be in Bulgaria for a meeting about the mermish colonies of the Black Sea and to meet with our intelligence services. Viktor asked me to attend his father’s funeral. The photos outside the hotel were taken the day of the funeral. The photos in the park were taken the following day when we met for a coffee. I don’t think I need to tell you that Ron is well aware that we saw each other that weekend, and the release of these photos will be cruel and embarrassing.”

She’s silent for a moment, a flash of sadness crosses her face. Albus’s aunt and uncle were very much in love, but their marriage had faced its stumbles alongside his aunt’s career trajectory.

“You’re right, it’s embarrassing, and the press will be sensational and relentless for a bit, but it would die down,” Albus says, “The memo on the other hand- “

“-Is an example of the worst bit of this job. Albus, every single day I make imperfect decisions. I make decisions that try to do the most good for the people I govern, the most good for our magical society and you know what, I’ve had to compromise politically and frankly ethically almost every day.

Albus isn’t satisfied by her answer, “You’re letting the Romani magical populations be persecuted because you allowed the Romanian ministry to interfere in Bulgaria’s election.”

“Yes and it’s terrible. I already mentioned we have intelligence services working there and the ICW is overseeing a globally coordinated effort for sanctions and if necessary a peacekeeping mission.”

“But that could take months for the ICW to vote on, and in the meantime the Romani people are suffering and Bulgaria is stuck with an absolute oaf of a minister for the next four years.“

“And it was a calculated choice. The Romani diaspora, a large percentage of whom are magical, includes small communities here like the Wales Kale and the Romanichal.The communities are extremely insular and they don’t follow the statute of secrecy. But because they are often bullied about by muggle regulations and parliament, they abide by keeping the statute in place when interacting outside of their community. Susan and I were concerned that without the UK backing a strong international position in favor of Romani protections that we were risking our national security. I know that by not interfering we allowed a puppet government to be installed and that has had consequences. You may disagree, but I’m not going to defend myself or Susan. We made a choice and I still believe that given the options, we made the best one.”

Albus is silent a moment thinking of how complicated the decision must have been. He inhales and exhales slowly, “I understand.”

“No you don’t, not really. But I expect you will one day,” Hermione says, looking at Albus seriously. His family knew of his political ambitions to be minister one day, and Hermione, along with Percy, had been amongst the most supportive. Though just one summer amongst the upper echelon’s of the ministry had proven to Albus that he had a lot to learn still.

“So,” Albus’s tone is confident again, “What are we going to do about it?”

* * *

“This is the one. This my favorite,” Astra declares, holding up her spoon victoriously. Cosmo leans over and kisses her sweetly, celebrating another wedding decision made.

“Alright, lemon drizzle cake with elderflower buttercream it is,” Scorpius says, taking the charcoal pencil tucked behind his ear and making a note on the wedding menu plans.

Astra, Cosmo, Lily and Scorpius are in the expansive dining room of Malfoy Manor, having commandeered the space for wedding planning, the room showing off Lily’s meticulous organization of everything from seating charts to a timeline with annotations of the exact charms required for transforming the garden into the perfect celestial-themed post-elopement party. 

Scorpius had been cleared by the healers after a full week in bed and with the restaurant opening a full week away, he’d been eager to offer his services for his cousin’s wedding celebration. With less than two days until the wedding, he is happily busy with preparing the menu for the party of thirty close friends and family, an easy feat for Scorpius who regularly catered events for several hundred people.

“Perhaps for decoration, we could have some gold leaf moons and stars. What do you think?” Lily asks, using her wand to transfigure a napkin into shapes to place on the cake slices.

“Love that!” Astra smiles and hugs her best friend tightly.

“Okay, I must go. I have quite a bit of work to get done in the potions chamber, but call me on the two-way if you need anything,” Lily says, gathering her handbag.

“Lily,” Cosmo says, though with his thick, Spanish accent it sounds more like ‘Lee Lee’, “Thank you for everything.”

“Keep Astra happy, and I’m happy to do it,” she says, blowing a kiss at them all before leaving.

Scorpius shakes his head, “It may not have seemed like it, but you were just threatened Cosmo.”

Cosmo laughs and slides his arm around Astra’s waist, pulling her in close.

Not keen to witness the two of them snogging, again, Scorpius interrupts quickly, “So now that your immigration papers have been cleared, do the two of you have plans to stay here after the wedding? Or travel again?”

“We were thinking we’d stay actually,” Astra says, smiling contentedly, “I didn’t realize how much I missed being home with you and Draco, how much I missed being able to see Lily and Delilah whenever I wanted. I reached out to the journal I’ve submitted articles too in the past, The Magizoologist Monthly, and they have an open position for a junior editor. I’d still be able to travel now and then for conferences, but I could spend more time here with Cosmo.”

“Astra, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy you’re going to stay. My father too will be ecstatic,” Scorpius says, squeezing his cousin’s hand affectionately.

“Oh but don’t say anything to him,” Astra says, “I don’t want to get his hopes up since I don’t have the job yet.”

“I promise.”

“Yes, well, Cosmo here is actually quite in demand as an accountant. Lots of fancy City jobs available for a fellow like him,” Astra says turning the conversation to her husband, “But Maggie Holmsby from the Muggle Liaison office said they work with the squib placement agency to help find jobs for muggle spouses too.”

Scorpius nods thoughtfully, “That’s great. But, Cosmo, you’re quite the foodie, do you think you might have an interest in working with the restaurant? If the Pearlsteens get any of the Diagon Alley expansion development, and I’m almost certain they will, we will likely open at least a couple more restaurants in the next year. To be frank, my eyes glaze over every time Noah tries to talk to me about the financials. Would you want to be my business manager?”

Cosmo looks shocked at Scorpius’s offer and quickly Scorpius says, “You don’t have to answer today. But think about it.”

The handsome Spanish man laughs, “Por supuesto, Scorpius, your family is so generous and kind. Especially after the way my family treated Astra, it’s more than I deserve.”

From the kitchen door there is a bitter bark of laughter as they turn to see Draco standing there, “Cosmo, I can say with absolute certainty that is the very first time anyone has ever said that about the Malfoys.”

He walks in and takes up Astra’s fork to pick at her unfinished cake, “You all about done with the wedding planning then?”

“Yes, I think so, Lily has got us well organized,” Astra replies, “Have you been home all day? This is the first we’ve seen of you. Don’t tell me you were hiding from Lily!”

“She’s- “ Draco hesitates, “A lot like her parents. Forceful, that one; on my nerves and my wallet.”

“Your nerves, uncle,” Astra scoffs, “What are you a Victorian spinster in a too-tight corset?”

Scorpius laughs as his father rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Astra, there is a delivery for you and Mr. Cosmo from Twilfitt and Tatting,” Trixie says, carrying two large garment bags.

“Oh, it’s my dress! And Cosmo, your first set of dress robes,” Astra says, jumping up from the dining table. She grabs his hand and quickly gathers the bags from Trixie, “Mind helping me dress, Trix?”

Draco finishes off the abandoned cake and looks over the guest list on the dining table, “Harry and Ginny are coming? These Potters will be the death of me, but she seems happy.”

“Astra and Cosmo wanted to invite them for helping them get out of Spain. The Potters are good people, they really are just trying to help,” Scorpius isn’t quite sure why he feels the need to defend them.

“They could never stop themselves from being meddlesome,” Draco says, “You know, Albus stayed all night at the hospital after you were attacked. He was sick with worry, bossing around the mediwitches to make sure you got a large private room, using his connections to make sure Healer Davies the head of Spell Damage was treating you.”

Scorpius feels a surge of affection for Albus, “He’s been a good friend since I’ve been back home.”

“Quite,” Draco says, his expression indicating he’d like to say more.

Scorpius had never talked about Albus with his father, but he remembers coming home after spending an afternoon with the Potters and talking to his mum. He made a pot of tea and carried it to the piano parlor where she was painting and told her all about his blossoming crush on Albus. The boys had had only ever spoken in passing at school, but a whole afternoon at Croyde Bay Beach with Lily, Delilah, Astra, Noah and Albus had left a teenage Scorpius swooning.

“Sometimes, well- all the time,” Draco says, “I think about the way it all went wrong. After your mum died, I know that I should have done more to- to take care of you both, to lighten the burden of your grief. But, this house, this place without your mum- I just-. You held us together. And I’m sorry you had to do that. I know those years were hard for you and Astra, and I’m sure that’s why you both left as soon as you could. I guess I should be glad I raised, or at least had a hand in raising strong, independent children. But, it’s been nice to have you both home again this summer.”

Scorpius half-smiles at his father, “Wild hippogriffs couldn’t have stopped Astra. You remember her devouring those field notes from her parents belongings. She and mum put little stickers all over the globe in the library of all the places her parents went and all the places she planned to go. She was adventurous. And I- well, you always said you felt stuck being the person you were at sixteen. After mum died, I guess I just was scared of that too. I didn’t want to get stuck as this grieving sixteen year old kid. I wanted to do the things that I thought mum would want me to do.”

Draco nods, “Scorpius, just remember there is a difference between seeking out adventure and running away.”

Scorpius doesn’t know how to respond to that and so they look at each other a moment, the silence growing, the dreaded quiet they’ve known before, but for once it’s not uncomfortable.

* * *

“Remember, stay on message,” Parvati Patil, the minister’s Chief of Staff says, “We’ve leaked the photos of you and Krum to Witch Weekly and we’ve made a statement. But that’s not why you’re here today, you’re here to talk about one thing and one thing only, protection of ethnic and linguistic minorities in magical education and practice. That is why you’ve asked Representative Orla Coughlin to lead the signing of the Zurich Accord.”

Minister Granger-Weasley nods following along with her talking points as Parvati continues, “We have agreed to an exclusive interview with Romilda Vane, both print and radio where you will address the photos with Krum directly. She has agreed, in turn, to stop print on the memo.”

“And we’re hoping that’s enough for it go away?”

“No we’re hoping that the salaciousness of your photos with Krum will be more important to the British magical community than election fraud. Burying the lead, so to speak.”

Albus looks over at Casimir consulting with their boss Susan. After the minister, Susan will make a brief statement in support of making prejudice against ethnic and linguistic minorities in magical communities punishable under international law.

The week since the attack on Albus and Scorpius at the Wizengamot and since his conversation with Jonah had left Albus feeling suspicious of Casimir. But he still couldn’t find it in him to believe that Casimir has any association with Wizards United. Especially not after the two of them had spent the last forty-eight hours preparing for this press conference.

Minister Granger-Weasley shakes her head, “This is atrocious, even if Viktor and Ron have agreed to it.”

“You’re right, Minister. Falsely accusing you of adultery as if it has any impact on your ability to be minister is atrocious. It is sick. it is misogynistic. It is embarrassing and emasculating. It is playing to the lowest common denominator,” Parvati says, looking seriously at Hermione, “But it’s also categorically untrue, which means that when you answer questions from the press today or when you sit down for your interview with Vane and you deny, deny, deny, you will not be lying.”

“And if Vane keeps digging, or another reporter? A real investigative reporter like Creevey, rather than a gossip columnist, what do we do then?

“Then we confront it. But you know as well as I do that the vast majority of the British magical population cares much more about Minister Granger-Weasley’s alleged affair and a perceived moral failure than they do about you ignoring election fraud in a small, insignificant Eastern European country,” Parvati says firmly.

“Five minute warning,” says one of the press assistant’s from the ministry office briefing room. The room is buzzing with energy. Assistants run back and forth making sure the press is situated. Auror guards are stationed every entrance after last week’s attack. The press in the next room tittering excitedly, because thus far Minister Granger-Weasley had not been the sort of minister to call many press conferences, especially on such short notice. Albus too is bouncing on the balls of feet, his brown leather brogues tapping softly against the tile floor. While he, like any politician, absolutely hates scandal, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pure adrenaline rush of the political game.

“Is Ron here?” Hermione asks looking around the back office of the briefing room.

“Madam?” Asks a harried press assistant.

“My husband is he- “

“I’m right here,” Ron says, stepping forward, dressed smartly in crisp blue dress robes.

“Hi,” she says, exhaling deeply. He hugs her tightly.

“Are you ready for this?” He asks, his blue eyes looking down at his petite wife kindly.

“No, but we don’t have much of a choice,” she says, “I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to forget every talking point.”

“What year did the cockatrice get loose at the Triwizard Tournament and injure all three heads of school?

She looks up at him quizzically, “1792, of course.”

“See, you’re fine. Just fine.”

Hermione rolls her shoulder back and down, the picture of confidence.

Then for just a second the facade slips again as her brows furrow, her dark brown eyes full of worry. Ron lifts her chin so her eyes meet his, “Hey, none of that now, love.”

He kisses her softly on the temple and she nods, instantly emboldened by her husband’s affection.

From across the room, Albus watches them, noticing the warmth and trust of a partnership that had spanned the decades. It seems impossible that anyone could doubt they state of their marriage from seeing them together. Or from the very fact that his Uncle Ron didn’t hesitate to support his aunt even though the photos were arguably much more embarrassing for Ron than anyone else.

“Minister, it’s time.”

The posture perfect, the chin proud, the lips in a closed mouth smile. It’s a face Albus remembers from the campaign, the image of the woman in command of one of the most powerful wizarding communities in the world.

* * *

“It went as well as it could have,” Albus says.

“Yes, but it’s just deflecting the real problem. Whoever is after the minister won’t be satisfied by an alleged adultery scandal that will be over in the blink of a news cycle,” Casimir replies shaking his head as they get ready to leave the press briefing room.

“At least the minister’s office knows about it now. We have more people looking out. Who knows, maybe the aurors will be able to connect all this to the Wizengamot attack or Wizards United.”

“Maybe- “ Casimir starts.

But they are cut off by the roar of a crowd of paparazzi waiting for them in the corridor outside of the press briefing room, the flashbulbs blinding. Albus can just make out his name amongst the noise.

‘Mr. Potter, what do you think of the allegations against the minister?’

“Mr. Potter, did you know about the affair?’

“Mr. Potter, how does the family feel about the affair?’

“Albus, does this make Hermione Granger-Weasley the family slag?”

Albus stops in his tracks, clenching his fist. Casimir notices Albus tense with anger.

Casimir steps forward to stop Albus from reacting, a political move he’s bound to regret.

“Come on, let’s go through the back corridor,” Casimir says, sharply tugging on the Albus’s sleeve.

Albus takes a deep breath as the cameras continue to flash. He turns away, but can’t resist looking back and saying, “She is your minister and you should refer to her as such.”

They quickly walk back to the DIMC office and sit at their desks, getting back to work.

Albus uses his thumb and forefinger to massage the bridge of his nose and breathes deeply.

“Casimir, thank you.”

Casimir waves him off, “Absolute vultures those paps, though I’m sure you’re used to it. Anyway, are you going to Astra and Cosmo’s wedding party?”

“Yes, hoping to get out of here at half past seven,” Albus says checking his watch. It’s already after six, “Is your whole family attending?”

“Just my mum and me. My father said he had other business. I don’t ask what that means because I don’t want to know,” Casimir replies, rolling his eyes.

“What is this I heard about the two of you having a party to attend?” Susan asks as she enters the office.

“Oh well we- ,“ Albus starts.

“No, I insist. There is nothing more for you to do tonight. I have a feeling this may be one of your last opportunities for fun.”

* * *

Albus is late and in dire need of a drink when he finally arrives at Astra and Cosmo’s celestial-themed wedding party after the press conference. He’d stopped home first to shower, change and get his gift for the newly married couple. In the last couple of years, Albus’s friends and family members had seemed to start marrying in mass and he always bought the same gift, a personalized drawing of the couple created by local wizarding artist Dean Thomas in his art supply shop in Diagon Alley. Well that, and a very expensive bottle of champagne, of course.

He can’t help but be impressed by the fete his sister threw together in just a week. The tables are indeed named for constellations, Orion, Leo, Capricorn, each set with a gold and silver place setting while overhead is a floating ring of candles charmed to twinkle like stars. The entire garden is dotted with stars sparkling brightly against the inky, black of the night, while a band plays an orchestral version of a pop song that Albus can’t quite place and there are already any number of couples twirling around the makeshift dancefloor that is encapsulated in a soft gold and purple mist that Albus takes a moment to recognize as the Milky Way galaxy. Only Lily would think of such charms. On the buffet table is a generous spread with a glittering banner overtop inscribed with ‘Our Love is Written in the Stars’ in elegant calligraphy. The combined effect is, in a word, enchanting.

Albus takes a champagne flute from a passing waiter, and meets up with Noah and Lucy, her navy blue and silver gown showing the smallest of baby bumps.

“How are you managing?” Noah asks, his brown eyes sympathetic.

“Fine, I suppose,” Albus shrugs, “None of this is ideal, but I have to do my job.”

“I thought Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron looked great. They came off really well on camera,” Lucy says, “My dad said he doesn’t expect the scandal to stick.”

“I hope not,” Albus shakes his head, “Anyway, it’s a party. I’m not here to gripe about me for once.”

“It’s been quite the party already. Astra and Cosmo made Draco do some flamenco. I don’t think he’ll be attempting Spanish dance again anytime soon,” Noah says with a laugh.

Albus looks out over the dance floor, he spots Lily, dressed in head to toe gold sequins, coaxing their father into a dance. She shakes her hips and rolls her shoulders along to the music while Harry does an offbeat “two-step” the very definition of an awkward dad. Albus notices his mum nearby. She has her camera out and is taking pictures and laughing.

“Albus, you’re here! I’m so glad you came, merlin knows none of this would have happened without you,” Astra says as she and Cosmo stop by their table. Their a handsome couple with his charcoal dress robes trimmed in silver. Astra’s platinum blonde hair is topped with a silver tiara and her long champagne silk gown has an elaborate train of glittering silver stars on floaty chiffon.

He kisses her on the cheek and greets Cosmo before stepping back, “Astra, you are a celestial goddess amongst us mere mortals.”

“No one wonder Scorpius likes you so much with a mouth like that,” Astra says, giggling happily.

A few champagne glasses and wedded bliss clearly made for a blushing bride.

It’s then that Albus spots Scorpius twirling Delilah Longbottom. Delilah, like Astra and Lily is a trained dancer. But he’s just as elegant in his movements, leading Delilah in a manner that is strong, but graceful, his hips moving in tempo. It’s in stark contrast to Albus’s dancing skills. He’d always been stiff and mechanical unable to flow with the music. At least according to his Aunt Fleur, who insisted that all the boys take ballroom dance lessons with her the summer after Albus’s first year. Albus, a perfectionist to the core, memorized each step, counted each beat and generally danced with the precision of a military march. Nothing like Scorpius, so beautiful in the haze of glitter and glitz. Albus often thinks that the darkness does him no favors, but the night simply makes Scorpius’s features glow. The silvery blond hair, the porcelain skin, the high cheekbones- he shines like the moon.

Astra and Lily run over to Delilah and Scorpius, as a pop song plays, an earworm that Albus remembers Lily playing incessantly during her early teens. They jump into a choreographed routine, arms flourishing and hips swinging simultaneously to the beat of the boy band singing out, ‘Your love has got me flying higher than Felix, your lips on mine tasting so delish.’ Albus laughs at their antics from across the dance floor. Scorpius chooses that moment to turn his head their eyes making contact. Albus feels his heart speed up in his chest as Scorpius looks at him, his grey eyes soft and happy, his full lips slightly parted.

Albus smiles again, the heat rising in his cheeks and a surge of longing shoots through his belly. He wants to be on the dance floor with Scorpius. He wants Scorpius to place his hands on his body and take his sharp angles and turn him into fluid, graceful movement.

The longer they look at each other, the more their gazes transform into a smolder. Albus bites his lip, his teeth meeting the skin in the spot where he can almost feel Scorpius’s mouth on his.

Scorpius nods his head to the left and Albus can see the small cottage across the manicured garden.

Albus takes a deep breath, following Scorpius quickly.

Once inside, Albus closes the door softly, locking it shut behind him. He turns to see Scorpius leaning against an old wooden table, but his affected casualty can’t hide the desire plain on his face. His grey eyes dark with lust. His chest rising and falling.His hands gripping the edge of the table as if restraining him in place.

Albus doesn’t know how to tell him that he doesn’t have to restrain himself, that the magnetic force that is drawing them together is too strong to fight any longer. He takes a half step forward.

That is all the encouragement that Scorpius needs as he strides towards him, grabbing Albus by the waist of his trousers, their hips crashing together roughly.

Scorpius lets out a strangled half-laugh, his face inches from Albus’s own, so close that their breaths are mingling together, “Oh Al, we’ve never just been friends.”

And finally, finally, their lips meet, moving against each other, Scorpius’s arm wrap tightly around his back, Albus’s hands tangles in Scorpius’s hair.

Their hands reach for the buttons of their shirts, fingers fighting to get at the skin beneath, until Albus manages to distract Scorpius with his tongue and his teeth nipping hungrily on the soft skin of Scorpius’s neck and he lets out a low groan that makes Albus light up with pleasure.

Scorpius reaches for his trousers, palming at Albus’s rock hard arousal in a way that makes Albus arch his back and lean into Scorpius’s hands desperate for more.

Albus stumbles back against the old stone wall of the cottage as Scorpius comes to his knees before him and pulls down his trousers. Scorpius looks up at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes and Albus is shaking with anticipation. He’s dizzy with desire, drunk on the feel of Scorpius’s hands grasping at his thighs, his tongue warm and wet around him. It’s too much and also not nearly enough. He slides his fingers through Scorpius’s soft blond hair desperate to be holding onto him again, the moment finally fulfilling the aching desire he’s been suppressing since he saw Scorpius in the ballroom at the beginning of summer.

Albus reaches down and winds his hand through Scorpius’s tie, pulling him up to standing. He needs to look him in those magnetic grey eyes again. He needs his mouth on Scorpius’s lips. He needs their hearts beating together, their bodies tangling together. He needs- more.

“Come home with me,” he whispers against Scorpius’s lips. 


End file.
